


The Twins

by Missjlh



Category: GreedFall (Video Game)
Genre: Abusive sibling, Alternate Universe - Twins, Anxiety Disorder, De Sardet/Constantin Critical, F/M, Gaslighting, Good Twin/Evil Twin Trope, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Male De Sardet/Constantin - Freeform, Panic Attacks, Physical Abuse, Serious Injuries
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-13 22:00:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 31
Words: 123,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28535535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missjlh/pseuds/Missjlh
Summary: It’s always been the two of them, Constantin and Mother. As a teenager Loïc De Sardet sold his soul to his uncle to protect Constantin, his secret lover. While skilled in politics, he is callous and cruel. He is the new Legate of the Congregation of Merchants.His twin sister, Elizabet, has never drawn attention. She’s the spare; disinterested in politics and worse, poor at navigating the world she lives in. Never content, she endures, until meeting a Naut sea captain who challenges everything she once thought about life...
Relationships: De Sardet/Vasco (GreedFall)
Comments: 58
Kudos: 21





	1. Childhood and a Departure

**Author's Note:**

> For those unfamiliar, Elizabet is my canon De Sardet; Loïc is the character I created while doing an evil run (figuring out why he is how he is was immensely helpful while playing). Having written both of their stories, I decided it was time to see what happened if they both existed in the same universe. 
> 
> As a warning, a major component of this story includes a sibling dealing with an abusive brother, including gaslighting, physical abuse and threats. I’ll provide trigger warnings in relevant chapters but please protect yourselves and practice self-care as needed. :) 
> 
> This chapter features physical and emotional abuse at the hands of a sibling/other family member.

“We’re playing prince and princess today!” Loïc says, dragging her and their cousin out into the garden. “Constantin, you’re the princess, I’ll be the handsome prince that comes to save you and Ellie, you’re the villainous dragon set upon stopping me.” He raises his wooden sword into the air and mimics riding on a horse. “Get into positions!” 

“I’m always the dragon!” She whines. “Why can’t I be the prince?” 

“Because I’m the hero. I’m brave and fearless. You’re quiet and nervous. A prince can’t rescue a princess if they’re scared of their own shadow.” 

“I like being the princess,” Constantin announces. “I get to sit back, relax and get saved by a dashing prince!” 

“Mother says I’m brave in different ways.” 

“Yes, which makes you the dragon. C’mon Ellie - put up a fight!” 

Dragging her feet just a little, she stands in front of Constantin, raises her hands and bares her teeth, doing her best to pretend she’s a fearsome dragon. Loïc hacks and slashes at her - pretending, of course; he wouldn’t actually hit her, and after an appropriate length of time she makes a show of falling to the ground, writhing as she dies. 

“You’re very good at pretending to die, Elizabet,” Constantin says. 

“I’ve had a lot of practice since I’m never allowed to be the prince,” she says, pouting. 

Loïc runs to Constantin who is doing his best to act dainty and proper but failing quite miserably at it. “Oh, my handsome saviour! I pledge my life to you!” He cries out as Loïc wraps his arms around him and they kiss. 

She doesn’t like watching this part. Lately it seems like Loïc and Constantin play this game so they can kiss at the end. It’s not that she dislikes kissing - she likes it a great deal. Sometimes she daydreams about kissing other girls and boys. She likes to sneak to the port and watch the Nauts load their ships, occasionally fantasizing about kissing a Naut at sea. 

But the sort of kiss they give each other is different from the friendly greetings or displays of affection she’s normally seen amongst family. It is the kiss of people who are married and it doesn’t make sense to her. 

***

“I made you something,” Loïc says to her. “It’s not big or expensive,” he says quickly, as if that’s the sort of thing that would ever matter to her. “I was just practicing my crocheting.” 

“What did you make?” 

His hands move from behind his back to reveal a crocheted doll. It’s pink and wears a flower crown of red roses; just like the ones in Mother’s garden. The doll’s wool hair is long and brown; just like hers. “It’s you. You’re the most beautiful sister ever and I wanted to make your likeness.” 

She takes it from him and runs her fingers over it. “It’s beautiful. I doubt I’ve ever received a lovelier gift. Thank you,” she says, giving him a hug. 

“There’s something I wanted to talk to you about. Shall we go for a walk in Mother’s garden?” 

She nods, placing the doll on her bed and grabbing her shoes and a sweater and they walk, hand-in-hand out to the garden. 

“I’m starting special training with Uncle Adrien next week,” Loïc says as they walk through Mother’s rose garden. “He’s going to teach me about politics.” 

All their lives Mother has taught them to stay calm, stay stoic and be polite at all times with Uncle Adrien. She’s never felt comfortable around him. And neither does Loïc. “Why does he want you to start special training?” 

Loïc kicks a pebble. “I volunteered.” 

“Why?” 

He looks around nervously before taking her hand and running to the nearby gazebo. “It’s to protect Constantin. Uncle Adrien is so unkind to him. If I learn lessons from him, that will ease the pressure on Constantin and he won’t be so sad.” 

“Because you love him,” she says. They’re 13 and she’s known for awhile now that Loïc loves their cousin. But she’s never admitted to him that she knows. 

“You can’t tell anyone!” Loïc looks panicked. 

“Why would I tell anyone? You’re my brother and he’s my cousin. I love you both and would never do anything to hurt you. Does he love you too?” Also something she knows the answer to. 

“Yes. Constantin told me he couldn’t bear it any longer. His desperation scared me. It’ll be better this way. We can be together, even if no one can know about it.”

Uncle Adrien is a cold, cruel man. She worries for Loïc. “Don’t let him hurt you. Tell Mother if he does.” 

Loïc gives her a reassuring smile. “Not to worry. So long as I do everything he asks he won’t ever hurt me and Constantin will be safe.” 

***

All it took was losing her virginity to a Naut and getting discovered by her fiancé to end her engagement. An arranged marriage, set up by her uncle. 

Elizabet is 18 and has no desire to marry a man in his 50s that she could never love. 

“At least the engagement has been called off,” Elizabet mutters to herself as she makes her way to Uncle Adrien’s sitting room. “No matter what happens, I will not be forced to marry against my will.” 

It’s not just Uncle Adrien waiting for her but Loïc. Her twin brother. For five years now he’s had private lessons with Uncle Adrien. 

Loïc is to be witness to whatever dressing down she is to receive, then. She curtsies. “Good afternoon, Your Highness.” 

Uncle Adrien takes a sip of his brandy and sets it down next to him. “You dare to come in here and try to show respect after humiliating me?” He stands up and makes his way over to her, and she cannot meet his eyes as she instinctively shields herself. “You’ve made a mockery of your family. Fucking a filthy Naut?! And doing so after inviting your fiancé for a ‘rendezvous’?” 

“I didn’t wish to marry him, Uncle. I’m sorry!” She cries. “I was scared and it was the only way!” 

“All the good will your name had has been erased. You are nothing more than a whore.”

She nods, curling further in on herself. 

“Loïc!” Uncle Adrien calls out and immediately her brother is by his side. “What punishment is appropriate for the whore of a Naut?” 

“Force her to join the Nauts if she likes them so much?” Loïc suggests dryly. 

A kindness - though Uncle Adrien wouldn’t know that. Loïc and Constantin are both aware that she hates court life and has often fantasized about running away. She could probably figure out Naut life eventually - and perhaps even train as a doctor! 

Uncle Adrien scoffs. “Her name may be sullied but she’s still far too valuable for that. Try again.” 

“Confine her to our wing of the palace. She will not attend any balls or social gatherings for the next year.” 

Again, a kindness. She hates such things. 

The sound of Loïc being slapped upside the head can be heard. “Foolish boy! The only way she will learn is if you beat it into her. Go on.” 

She looks up at Loïc who is clearly uncomfortable. Silently she pleads with her eyes for him to appeal to Uncle Adrien. The two of them are close - surely he could change his mind? 

His bottom lip trembles as he backhands her, drawing blood and forcing her to the floor. Blood drips from her split lip as he falls to the floor beside her and punches her repeatedly. She curls in on herself, not fighting back, but protecting her stomach from the blows. 

Loïc is holding back. She’s seen the damage he can do if he really wants to hurt someone. He’s tall and muscular; far larger and stronger than she is. She’ll be bruised and sore for several weeks but her life will not be put in jeopardy. He stands up and gives her a final kick before stepping back. “I expect the whore has learned her lesson, Uncle,” Loïc says, his voice ice cold. 

“Get out of here, then,” Uncle Adrien says and she picks herself up off the floor with effort and leaves the sitting room. 

Kurt is outside. “Are you alright, Green Blood?” Elizabet nods, because she doesn’t trust her voice right now. Kurt looks unconvinced.

“Shall I take you to your mother?” Elizabet shakes her head. Mother can’t know what Uncle Adrien ordered Loïc to do. She would be furious - at both of them and if she said the wrong thing, what if Mother became her uncle’s next target? 

“Please don’t tell anyone,” she whispers tearfully as he walks her to her bedroom. Not Constantin’s room - she would so desperately love some comfort from her beloved cousin but she can’t. Him and Loïc are lovers - very secretly, and she cannot cause friction between them. It would be unfair. 

Kurt hesitates for a long moment. “Very well. I’ll not say a word.” They arrive outside her room and she throws her arms around Kurt who returns her embrace very gently. “You’re tough as nails, Green Blood. Chin up,” he says. 

Elizabet lies in bed and her cat, Daisy, jumps up and curls up beside her stomach, purring loudly. She runs her fingers through Daisy’s long, white fur as tears roll down her cheek. “I don’t have to get married, at least,” she says. “But Loïc beat me. He listened to Uncle and hurt me. How do I forgive that? Uncle adores Loïc and would have been angry but he’d have gotten over it!” 

Daisy doesn’t respond, obviously; she’s a cat, but voicing her feelings helps a little. 

A few hours later there’s a knock at the door. She doesn’t respond. “Ellie?” 

Loïc is the only one to call her that. She’s hated it for years now. 

“Ellie? Let me in. We need to talk.” 

She doesn’t respond. 

“I had no choice. He’d have hurt Constantin. You know I need to protect him. I’m sorry. I knew you could handle it.” 

He chose Constantin over her. Unsurprising. Nobody puts her first in anything. Mother loves them both so much but frequently she has other responsibilities as a result of her position at court. 

Constantin and Loïc have each other. She has no one that she can trust to take her best interests to heart consistently. 

“It was brave what you did, you know. Foolish and stupid, but brave. I wish you’d talked to me. I could have helped.”

For several years now Loïc has not been a trustworthy confidant. As Uncle Adrien’s self-proclaimed protege, anything she says that risks harming his reputation will be delivered by Loïc straight to his ears. 

She doesn’t respond. 

“Ellie, don’t do this. Don’t be like this.” A pause. “I’ll be spending the night with Constantin if you’d like to talk. Good night.” 

Yes, because she’ll absolutely knock on Constantin’s door while they’re in the middle of things. For several years now she’s been the inadvertent third wheel in their relationship out of necessity; she doesn’t need to start doing it on purpose. 

She covers her split lip and bruised face carefully with makeup the next morning. Still, Mother notices because she almost never wears makeup and looks at her face. “What happened, Elizabet? Why is your lip swollen?” 

Loïc cannot meet her eye and looks down at his breakfast. 

“I was quite clumsy and tripped while going down the stairs yesterday,” she lies smoothly. 

Mother looks doubtful but does not question her further. Loïc grabs her wrist as she walks out of the dining room. She stiffens in fear. “We need to talk, Ellie,” he says quietly. 

“We do not,” she responds. 

“Ellie, please.” 

She turns to him and stares at him, willing herself not to cry. “You made your choice yesterday. One of many choices you’ve made. I cannot fault you for that. I can be grateful that you attempted to secure a punishment that would free me from this horrid life. But I can recognize that the choice you made in there is not one I’d ever make myself. You must live with what you did; I will not placate you or soothe your aching soul. Now, please leave me alone for now.” She yanks her wrist out of his hands and walks away towards the court yard, where she has a magic lesson planned with Kurt. 

***

The last time she was in Uncle Adrien’s sitting room was when Loïc beat her. He’s called her there today. When she enters Uncle Adrien is sitting on his red chair. His throne of blood. He gestures to the chair next to him. She curtsies and sits. 

“My sister tells me you are fond of coffee, Niece. Is this true?” She nods nervously; coffee is very expensive and she worries she’ll be accused of breaking into his private pantry and stealing it; something Constantin has done more than once. 

Uncle Adrien rings a bell and a servant comes with a pot of coffee and two cups, placing the tray on the side table between them, pouring each of them a cup. Apparently she’s aware of how Uncle Adrien takes hers but asks her how hers should be prepared. “I can take care of my own. Please don’t worry,” she responds. Once the servant leaves she stirs a generous helping of milk and some sugar into her coffee. 

“It is unbecoming of a noblewoman to do such things herself,” her uncle says. 

She sniffs the coffee before taking a sip, pretending to merely enjoy the aroma of the beverage, but in actuality checking for poison. Deciding it is safe, she takes a sip. 

“I was told something very interesting, Niece.”

“Oh?” 

“Apparently you are using healing magic to tend to the wounds sustained during your combat training? And have begun reading books from the Bridge Alliance and are dissecting carcasses?” 

Loïc. Her brother must have told Uncle Adrien. Briefly she considers revealing his secret. If he cannot respect hers then why should she respect his? But she does not. Because she’s not like him. And she would never do something to hurt Constantin. 

“I’ve always found anatomy and medicine to be interesting topics. It will be useful in developing my magical abilities,” she says, trying to sound less passionate about the topic than she actually is. 

Uncle Adrien takes a sip of his coffee. “Medicine is not a suitable career for a noblewoman.” 

He’s going to order her to stop her studies. But Loïc is the important one; he’s going to inherit Mother’s title. She has no value. Something she reminds him of. “I am to have to make my own way in life given that Loïc will be inheriting Mother’s title. Can I not spend my life healing the sick and injured?” 

“Your purpose,” he begins sharply, “was to marry well. A purpose you disregarded so callously last year. I will not have a member of my family stoop so low as to dirty their hands in the body of another. You are to stop this. Immediately.” 

“A hobby, then. Please allow me to continue my studies as a hobby. Not a career,” she says, trying her hardest to remain calm. 

Uncle Adrien considers for a long while and she sips her coffee in silence, stomach churning. “A hobby that remains strictly secret. Your... unusual interests would be the subject of gossip.” 

“I won’t tell anyone, Uncle. I promise.” It was a foolish dream anyway; training to be a doctor. Even if she is the spare she is still a De Sardet. 

“Run along, Niece,” Uncle Adrien says and she curtsies and leaves without another word. 

Loïc is sitting in the library reading. She sits next to him. “Why would you tell Uncle?” Her voice is not quite steady; out of her uncle’s sight the despair and the anxiety are taking over. 

He looks at her with the sort of look a stranger would mistaken for softness. But with him it’s an act. It’s been an act for several years now. “He saw your... treatment room. Wondered why you had started brewing potions. How could I possibly lie to him and maintain my position? Ellie I’m sorry, but you know what it’s like. The burdens we all must carry.” 

“Am I not allowed one thing that makes me happy?” She asks bitterly. 

“You’re rich, Ellie. Be like the other women at court and buy yourself beautiful jewels and gowns. If you only tried, a life of privilege would make you happy.” 

A gilded cage is still a cage. “You would ask me to become what you mock? For years now you’ve mocked the frivolities of many of our peers. I want to learn, Loïc! I want to help people!” 

“Then get into politics, my dear Ellie. Uncle Adrien would take you on as well. You may not be inheriting Mother’s title but there’s plenty of opportunity for you to make a difference.”

“That’s not what my calling is, Loïc,” she says quietly. “I’d sooner practice my skills in secret than enter politics.” Once she’s confident enough, she can go out into the streets of Sérène with a mask and no one will know it is a noblewoman treating them so long as she can mimic the accent of the working class well enough. 

“There are no callings, Ellie. Only duty.” 

***

“How bad is it, Ellie?” Loïc is standing at her door looking genuinely upset; a rarity for him. 

“It’s the malichor; it’s fatal,” she snaps. “Mother is going to die.” Mother, who has always protected her. Who has always been patient with her and understands her anxiety and how to help her. Loïc has Uncle Adrien; she has Mother. 

“Isn’t there something you can do? Something your studies will be useful for?” He walks in and sits on her bed. 

“I can brew potions that might help with her symptoms. Try to do some healing on her. But there’s no cure, Loïc. You know that.” It’s odd, being in the position of having to comfort her brother. 

“Why Mother? She’s good and of far better stock than most.” 

His elitism disgusts her but there’s no point in saying anything. “The malichor does not care about one’s class.” 

Loïc’s face crumples and he bursts into tears, falling over and resting his head on her lap as she runs her fingers through his hair. “I know,” she says. “I know.” 

“We’ll only have each other and Constantin one day. We need to all stick together. You’ll always have a home with us,” he says between sobs. 

“We will.” 

She doesn’t know if she’s telling the truth or simply lying to comfort him. 

***

Knowing what Loïc is capable of doing changes their relationship on that awful day years ago. She loves him but she keeps her distance in many ways. Rarely does she speak of her desperate loneliness and unhappiness. Instead she plasters a false smile on her face and endures. 

And because Constantin is Loïc’s lover she can’t often talk to him about these things either. Instead she writes songs about the things that make her sad and dreams of a life different from the one she has. 

‘Assistant to the Governor’ is to be her new role. Loïc will be legate - a natural choice given his skill at politics and the personal training he’s received with Uncle Adrien. Constantin will be governor. 

She goes to Mother’s quarters and asks to speak to her alone. “Can I not stay here with you, Mother? What will you do once I’m gone and I can no longer brew you potions?” 

Mother reaches out with trembling fingers and she takes her hand. “I will not have you sit at my death bed. There are many healers here in Sérène and I will manage with them once you are gone. It is important to me that you go.” 

“But why? I’ll just be an assistant. I know I’m the spare and that I do not matter.” 

“My child, do not say that. You mean so much to me. And to your brother and cousin. The assistance you provide to your cousin will be valuable. As you are aware he has a... rebellious streak and you, more than Loïc are able to keep him out of trouble. Your brother... close as they are, has never tried to stop some of his more illicit activities.” 

Mother knows. There’s no doubt in her mind that Mother is aware of Loïc and Constantin’s relationship. “Being neurotic has to have some benefits occasionally,” she says with a bit of a laugh. 

Constantin tracks her down after her visit with Mother and is excited about his new position. “The three of us in New Sérène! Governor - I can hardly believe it!”

She forces herself to smile. “I’m happy for you.” 

“Not to worry, Cousin, I expect there will be little I need of you so you can occupy yourself with that medical stuff you’re so interested in,” Constantin says cheerily. “I’ll teach you how to sign my name so you can sign contracts on my behalf.” 

“I will not break the law!” She says, horrified by the thought. 

Despite what Mother said she knows she’s the spare. That Loïc is the golden child and Uncle Adrien simply wants her out of the way now that Mother is so sick. 

It’s fine. She’s always been the spare anyway. 

***

“Mother, I hate the thought of leaving you when you are so ill,” she says on the morning of their departure. Her and Loïc are both kneeling in front of her, each holding one of her hands. 

“Dying, my child.” 

“Mother, allow us to depart next month. Let us be by your side,” Loïc says with an emotion she hasn’t seen in him in years. 

“I... would like to give you each something. Family heirlooms.” Mother hands them each an amulet and she examines hers, feeling the hum of magic within it. The amulet is enchanted and seems to augment her healing abilities. Does Mother know this? It’s wooden, but has strange symbols carved in it. She puts it on and Loïc puts his on.

They each kiss Mother goodbye and walk away from her forever. Loïc sighs heavily and she takes his hand. “Is your amulet enchanted? Mine seems to strengthen my healing magic.” 

“I don’t think so. It’s a strange thing but I don’t feel any different while wearing it.” 

“Do we really need a babysitter in New Sérène?” Loïc grumbles as they leave the palace with Kurt. “Wouldn’t you rather stay here?” 

“Glad to be appreciated,” Kurt responds. 

“Loïc! I happen to be very happy to have Kurt coming along. It will be good to have someone familiar - a friend, by our sides. Are you looking forward to the journey?” 

Kurt shrugs. “I go where I’m ordered. Makes no difference to me where we are. Heard there are beasts the size of buildings on the island - that’ll be something to see. The voyage will be a long one. Prepare yourself for tight quarters and sea sickness.” 

“I do hope our accommodations are befitting our station. I do not wish to spend the next four months feeling the slightest bit uncomfortable,” Loïc says. 

“It’s a ship! We can’t expect a palace. I’ll be grateful for whatever the Nauts are able to provide,” she says. “We should find Constantin. Perhaps we should have gone out with him last night...” 

“You two were spending the night with your mother. That was more important than watching over your cousin.” 

They find Constantin - and the bandits who have kidnapped him. “We should negotiate with them. I’m sure they would be happy with a bribe.” She doesn’t particularly want to fight and is happy enough to part with some coin if it means Constantin is safe. 

“No. They were stupid enough to take Constantin so they will die for what they’ve done to him.” 

Loïc shows no mercy, slicing through the bandits like butter while she stands back and casts a shield spell on him and Kurt. These people were idiots but she cannot bring herself to kill them. “It’s a shame, that I couldn’t give them the end they deserved for what they did to Constantin,” Loïc says, giving one of the corpses a kick. 

She shivers as she imagines the execution promised to those who hurt a member of the royal family. As brutal as Loïc’s attacks were, this was ultimately a kinder end. 

“My lucky star!” Constantin embraces her brother and gives him a discreet kiss. “I knew you and my other dear cousin would rescue me.” She walks over and embraces Constantin. 

“Those thugs paid for what they did to you with their lives,” Loïc says. 

“My hero,” Constantin says and she gets Kurt’s attention and wanders off elsewhere so her cousin can kiss her brother in the manner he wishes to. 

***

Never has she seen a more handsome man than Captain Vasco. She’s always been attracted to Nauts; something Loïc has never understood. 

She wishes he wasn’t wearing a coat so she could have gotten a better look at how he’s built. He looks as if he might have the same lithe build she sees on most Nauts but she can’t be sure. 

“Kind of a prick, isn’t he?” Loïc whispers to her, Kurt and Constantin. “It’s a ship, not a boat,” he mimics mockingly, doing a terrible impression of a Naut accent. 

“It was my error and I appreciate being treated like any other person and not like a delicate little noble,” she says. 

“Because you think he’s attractive, dearest Elizabet?” Constantin asks. “You’ve always liked Nauts.”

She ignores him. “If you two want to deal with the tasks provided by the ambassadors, I’ll go find Jonas with Kurt and help him with the task given to him,” she says. “Meet back here in two hours?” 

They’re about to board the ship after completing their assigned tasks when a creature breaks free of another ship in port. Loïc pushes Constantin out of the way and orders Kurt and Captain Vasco to watch over him. 

Whatever this massive creature is, it’s putting them all in danger. She rushes towards it, throwing balls of shadow at it. Loïc runs past her, his sword in hand. “Not letting my sister get all the glory!” He shouts, laughing almost maniacally as he hacks away at the poor beast. 

He’s able to keep it busy and off her, allowing her to knock it off its feet. Feeling very forlorn about what she’s about to do, she shoots it, putting the beast out of its misery.

“Bravo!” Constantin calls out. “The twins fight together perfectly!” 

“That was thrilling,” Loïc says. 

“I wish we didn’t have to kill it,” is her response. 

“So, did you find the missing Naut?” Loïc asks her once on board. 

She nods. “I did. He was kidnapped by his birth father and locked in the basement of a warehouse. Jonas was very grateful that I showed up when I did and freed him.” Vasco was also impressed, telling her that her actions bring her honour; a comment that made her blush. Kurt teased her once they walked away from the handsome captain. 

Loïc frowns. “Boy had a chance to be nobility - to be back in his proper place in society and you had him brought back here?” 

“The Nauts are his family! He wants to be here!” Knowing that there’ll be no convincing her brother, who has a strange distaste for the Nauts; something he learned from Uncle Adrien, she changes the subject. “How did your tasks go?” 

“Well, the heretics fought to the death rather than allow themselves to get captured. But I was able to arrange to have the alchemist arrested,” Loïc says in a tone far too casual than the subject matter warrants. 

“You were going to give people accused of heresy over to Thélème? They burn heretics! No wonder they fought to the death - that is a kinder end than the alternative!” The very idea of it horrifies her, yet deep down she’s not surprised. 

Loïc is nonplussed. “Our allies asked it of us. We must do as they ask in order to maintain a positive relationship.” 

“At the expense of your soul,” she says and Loïc looks at her impatiently. 

“Stop lecturing me. They’re dead. It no longer matters. If they didn’t want to get burned they shouldn’t have engaged in heresy.” 

The thought of those poor people, cornered, opting to choose death at the end of a blade rather than by the pyre breaks her heart and she has to walk away before she says something regrettable to her brother. 

***

The heat has been kind to her this morning. Captain Vasco is up on the ropes doing... something. He moves up in the air with all the grace and dexterity of a dancer. The captain pauses, pulls off his shirt and throws it onto the deck. 

She forces herself not to react as she eyes his lean frame and the tattoos on his abdomen, arms, upper back and chest. Though he lacks any ink on the left side of his chest, which she finds odd. 

Briefly she wonders how far down the tattoos go and ponders tracing them with her fingers, muscles twitching under her touch. 

“Never thought I’d see the day my sister has an infatuation,” Loïc says. “You could go sleep with him, you know. You’d probably be the best person he could ever hope to get into his bed. A discreet tumble with a Naut here at sea won’t hurt your reputation... so long as it remains nothing more than a tumble.”

“Best in what way?” Certainly not in terms of skill between the sheets; she’s not that experienced. 

“Best as in the best. You’re a noble. He’s a filthy Naut. You’re his better in every way that matters,” he says, sounding as if it should have been obvious. 

“Do go sleep with him. You could use a lay,” Constantin says. 

“I’m going to go throw up on the other side of the ship,” Kurt grumbles as he stands up and walks away. 

She’s not better than him by virtue of her birth; what a ridiculous notion. “It would be inappropriate to sleep with him because our family is technically his employer. He could not consent.” 

Loïc sighs. “Look at you, being all prim and proper. For the best, anyway; you’re far too good to lower your standards and sleep with his kind.” 

_His kind._ As if the captain is not human. Loïc’s casual comment makes her deeply uncomfortable. 

That night the loneliness is overwhelming. Loïc has snuck into Constantin’s quarters and Kurt made it an early night so she’s all alone. Her aching heart inspires her and she begins singing a song she wrote after Loïc beat her on their uncle’s orders. 

Out of the corner of her eye she sees someone and jumps. “I’m sorry, I did not mean to startle you,” a rich and deep voice responds. The voice of the captain. She blushes. 

“I’m sorry if my singing was distracting. I can stop if you like,” she stammers. 

Vasco walks up beside her and rests his hands on the railing. “It didn’t bother me. Quite the opposite; it was beautiful to listen to.”

She smiles at him, the compliment warming her. 

“I have not heard that song before. Is it a tavern tune popular in Séréne?”

“I’m afraid that song is far too sad to be sung in any tavern that wishes to make coin off its customers,” she laughs. “I wrote it myself. It felt... right for tonight.” 

“You have a gift,” he says. 

The bright smile on her face turns wistful. She has a gift because so many things about her life make her so profoundly unhappy. “You are very kind. Perhaps I will have occasion to write happier songs when we arrive in Tír Fradí.” Perhaps life will be better off the continent. Or at least slightly more tolerable. 

Loïc has been rude and dismissive towards Captain Vasco and the crew. Frankly she’s surprised he’s come up to talk to her. “I wish to apologize, Captain.” He raises his eyebrow but does not respond. “On my brother’s behalf. He is... unused to interacting with those outside his own... circle. He was trained by our uncle. His behaviour has been uncharitable and I do not condone it. What can I do to rectify the matter?” 

The captain looks somewhat amused by this. “Your brother’s treatment is hardly the worst we’ve gotten. You rescued Jonas; far as I’m concerned that more than makes up for whatever rudeness gets thrown our way.” 

“Captain, please. It does not sit well with me.” 

He shrugs. “Could always offer to act as his intermediary? He gives his demands to you, you ignore them as you see fit or bring them to a member of the crew. Crew’ll be happier speaking to you; can’t remember the last time a noble has bothered to learn the names of the crew or actually talk to them when they don’t need something.” 

“Nobles are tiresome,” she says. “Fuck ‘em all.” 

The captain looks rather surprised and slightly impressed. “I probably shouldn’t respond, lest I stick my foot in my mouth again. Nobility makes me uncomfortable; I’m sorry I was rude to you when we first met.” 

Their conversation is flowing easily now and it’s difficult to remain cool and collected. As embarrassing to admit, she can’t recall the last time anything made her as excited as talking to the captain has. “It’s quite alright. I appreciated it to be honest with you. To be treated like a person and not a title.” She looks up at the sky, at the millions of glittering stars shining brightly. She smiles. 

“The sea is the best place to watch the stars. You’ll never get a better view than this.” 

“Seems a shame I’ll only see them like this for such a short period of time, then,” she says. “Do you know much about the stars? I know so little!” 

He rubs the back of his neck; a nervous gesture. “I know some...” he points up at the sky. “The bright one, near the set of stars in the shape of a ladle, do you see it?”

It takes her a moment but she finds it and nods.

“That is the North Star. Find it in the sky and you will always know which way North is. It may save your life one day.”

He knows about the stars and she is thrilled to find another topic of conversation. “How fascinating! Do you know much about the stars? Do they move in the sky at all? What are the names of the other stars? Can you show me the constellations?” She grips his arm as she speaks, nearly tripping over her words. 

“I know...some. I can teach you the names of the constellations if you wish.”

She grins but realizes she’s still gripping his arm, which is dreadfully inappropriate so she lets go. “Oh Captain, that would be extraordinary! Perhaps we could trade knowledge? I know a fair bit about alchemy and can show you how to brew a decent healing potion.” Has she gone too far? She starts to bite at her bottom lip, at the scar from where Loïc hit her all those years ago. 

“I would be amenable to such an agreement.” 

“Can we begin tomorrow, Captain?” The thought of getting to know the captain better and having time with him during their off hours is terribly exciting. 

Vasco nods. “Aye. I should head to bed; I’ve an early day tomorrow. Will you head to bed as well, Lady De Sardet?”

“Elizabet.”

“Pardon?”

“My name. It’s Elizabet. Maybe, if it isn’t too uncomfortable, you could call me by my name when it’s just us? I’d like that. A lot. I mean, it would be nice,” She stammers, feeling as if she very much could be pushing past a boundary. 

But he agrees immediately. “Of course. Elizabet.” Hearing her first name come out of his mouth, in that absolutely _gorgeous_ voice takes her breath away. 

She remembers herself and tries to act casual. “Thank you Captain. I like hearing my actual name instead of all of the titles and honorifics.”

“Vasco,” he says quickly. “If I’m to call you by your name, I would ask you to do the same.”

“Right. Sorry. Vasco. I’m looking forward to tomorrow. Have a good night.” Elizabet stretches her arms out towards him. Reflex; she almost always gives Constantin, Loïc and even Kurt a hug before departing. But Vasco isn’t one of them; he’s the captain of their ship and this is horribly inappropriate. She pulls them back, horror-stricken, instead taking his hand in hers, shaking it before walking away. 

“Why are you so awkward?” She says to herself. 

Her conversation with the captain was so invigorating and she finds herself feeling desperately interested in an actual person for the first time in - nearly two years? As she returns to her quarters she allows herself to fantasize about joining the Nauts and becoming the doctor she’s always dreamed of being.


	2. Lessons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Following their lesson, Elizabet and Vasco share stories from their lives.

“So, the breakdown of ingredients for potions remains the same, regardless of batch size. However, one must be very careful to boil a potion for precisely the amount of time called for. Which means knowing how long it takes to bring that amount of liquid to a boil. And the measuring can get a bit tricky because it needs to be exact. Many alchemists go years before they try making larger portions of a single potion – which is part of the reason they’re so expensive. Now, if you had 800 grams of crushed borage…” she trails off, flipping through her book to try to find the chart.   
  
Vasco gives her the measurements for the other ingredients as well as the length of time it would take to bring it to a boil in an almost bored tone of voice and she looks at him. “Were you looking through my book to memorize the chart?” she teases.   
  
“It was math, is all. I can do it in my head easily enough.”   
  
“What does a Naut use math for? I mean no offence – of course you would have learned mathematics in your schooling, but that was beyond what even some Bridge Alliance alchemists can do in their head. That’s extremely impressive.”   
  
Vasco looks uncomfortable and she worries she’s insulted him. “It’s just a hobby,” he mutters, looking uneasy.   
  
“I’m sorry. I realize that was probably insulting, and I’m just a little nervous and awkward, and I didn’t mean to imply that…” she stammers.   
  
“You didn’t. It’s actually rather gratifying, being compared to a Bridge Alliance savant. Most nobles are surprised I know how to read.”   
  
“Most nobles are idiots,” she points out and Vasco laughs. It’s been a month and she’s heard him laugh more during their lessons. Lately she finds it’s the sort of sound that sends her heart racing and is grateful for the dark; in the dim lantern light he cannot see her blush.   
  
“I believe it best I do not comment,” he says in response. “Save to say that I’ve encountered at least one who is pleasant to be around.”   
  
“Lucky them,” she says.   
  
“Indeed.”   
  
Sometimes they talk once their lessons conclude. Vasco will tell her a story from his life at sea and she will share a story of ballrooms and other noble nonsense. His stories are always better but Vasco listens intently as she speaks, looking strangely sad as she does. “Would you tell me a story?” She tries her luck; some nights it is late by the time they conclude and he goes straight to bed.   
  
“Soon you’ll have heard every interesting tale from my life and you’ll have no further use of me.”   
  
“Oh, I doubt that. Besides, you can just start making up stories; I’d hardly know the difference.”   
  
“And what if I’m a terrible liar?” Vasco shoots back.   
  
“I’ve watched you play poker. You’re quite good at bluffing, you know. Think you could make up absolute nonsense and I’d eat it right up.”   
  
Vasco seems to consider for a moment. “What is the coldest weather you’ve ever experienced?”   
  
“It occasionally snows in the Congregation but it never lasts more than a few days, so… just below freezing I suppose?”   
  
“Last year I was up further north than you’d have ever been, in the middle of winter. Slow going, as you can imagine; we had to be careful not to hit icebergs or get ourselves frozen in ice. Had a drink with a man who survived that once. Told the story with a smile on his face but his eyes told me a very different story. Half the crew perished.”   
  
“From the cold?”   
  
“Some. The lucky ones. But others…food becomes scarce,” he trails off.  
  
She gasps, clasping a hand over her mouth. “Enough on that. That isn’t the story I’m aiming to tell. We had a young lad on our ship. ‘Bout five or so. It’s common enough to have young Nauts on a voyage; before we become cabin boys we’ll go on the odd voyage. Good way to show Naut life in practice, and a decent way to weed out those not meant for life at sea.”   
  
There are so many questions she wants to ask but Vasco doesn’t always answer them – presumably to protect Naut secrets so she’s learned to listen and accept whatever information he gives her.   
  
“The lad was too close to the rail, lost his balance and fell overboard. I didn’t see it myself, but as soon as I heard the shout, I went running, pulled off my coat and boots and dove in after him. I assume you’ve never fallen through ice?” She shakes her head. “It’s dangerous, for reasons aside from the obvious ones. The shock of it can make you gasp involuntarily, meaning you take in water and drown. It’s also hard on the heart; heard stories of Nauts falling in and being rescued, only to be found dead hours later. Wasn’t too worried about that; I’m still young.”   
  
This information isn’t anything she’d ever read about in Bridge Alliance medical textbooks and she files it away in case she ever needs it.   
  
“Best thing to do is stay still at first. Which meant I couldn’t immediately go after the boy. Didn’t know if he could swim or not, so I feared I was going after a corpse. Took me about ten minutes to find him and get a good hold of him. By this point it was becoming hard to swim. With hypothermia the body redirects blood to your core – good way to stay alive, unless you happen to be in the middle of the ocean. Just barely managed to make it back to the ship. Don’t remember much after that until the next morning when I woke up swaddled in blankets, with several bed warmers around me. Apparently the boy came around far quicker than I did.”   
  
Vasco is so calm while telling the story, which is somewhat baffling. “You saved that boy’s life; you’re a hero!”   
  
“I’m the captain. Just doing my duty, is all,” he responds.   
  
It’s so much more than that. He knew the risks, and knew the odds of finding the child alive and still he did it without thinking.   
  
“You’re rather dashing, you know,” she says, without thinking. Realizing that she’s likely being inappropriate, she curses her awkwardness, and starts to stammer out an apology when Vasco stops her.   
  
“I’ve been told that before. Though never by someone like you.”   
  
“A rich girl, you mean?”   
  
“Yes, though you’re hardly just a woman of means. Now, I believe I was promised a story?” Vasco looks at her expectantly.   
  
It’s not as easy to come up with the stories Vasco is interested in. She hates life at court, and avoided such events as much as she could. It was always her brother who went to them.   
  
“Well… a few years ago I was at a party with Loïc and Constantin. My brother is good at such events; he’s charming and knows what to say, and how to win every negotiation he takes on. I’m… not. People tended to figure that out pretty quickly. Sometimes took advantage of me. Usually I just stayed back with Constantin while Loïc worked the room. This time I was approached by a woman who sought an investment in her business. I know little about textiles and could hardly understand whether the bold claims she was making were true. So I’m stammering on, wishing that my brother were here to take over, eventually agreeing to give her a small sum of money as an investment. More to make her go away than anything. You see, I did that often. Just offered them what they wanted because it was less stressful than saying no. I must sound so spoiled right now, it’s just I am often anxious, and...” 

“I understand, and do not think less of you,” Vasco says. “I’ve noticed you’re frequently nervous.” 

“Been like this my entire life. Mother told me I was very clingy as a baby and wailed incessantly when she wasn’t around. Loïc was a very calm child in comparison. For as long as I can remember I’ve been afraid. When I was little, I feared Mother going away. I often worried about my brother and Constantin. I worried my uncle would steal my cat.” 

Vasco gives her a strange look. “What would he want with your cat?” 

“What better way to keep a child quiet than to threaten to steal away something they love? Not that I was frequently noisy. Not after he threatened that the first time.” 

“Charming,” Vasco says, shaking his head. 

“I... try not to let it show. It’s been awhile since I’ve had a panic attack around people. I’d thought maybe I was doing a good job of hiding it but I’m not always good at... talking. Being charming. But you noticed. Mother helped me learn how to hide it whenever I was at parties or other important events but here, I suppose I just... relaxed a little too much.” She looks down at her fingers, picking at her nails and unable to look him in the eye. 

“Elizabet, you speak as if it is something you’re ashamed of. Don’t be. Think it’s probably better not to bottle it up anyway. Shaken bottles tend to explode and make a mess.” 

“Are you comparing me to a bottle of beer?” She asks, giving him a wry smile. 

“Never said I was good at sweet words. My manner of communication is more ‘blunt asshole’.” 

But he can be sweet, she’s discovered. It’s subtle and rarely lingers, but the walls are starting to come down. 

“I believe you were in the middle of a story about a textile investment you made?”  
  
“Right. Sorry. Got off topic,” she stammers. “It turns out the business became quite profitable. Instead of appealing to the nobility, this woman made garments for the working class and was able to find methods to undercut her competition. My small investment became quite valuable. But Loïc was irritated by it; said investing in a product for the working class made by a business owned by a woman without a title was beneath me.”  
  
“You’d think he’d recognize a shrewd business decision when he saw one,” Vasco says disdainfully.  
  
“But it wasn’t on my part. I just wanted her to stop talking – and he knew it. I’m not smart enough to make decisions like that on purpose.”   
  
Vasco shakes his head vigorously. “Don’t talk down about yourself. You opted not to sell your stake, right? You kept it and benefitted from it.”   
  
“I didn’t benefit. The working class did. My brother wouldn’t shut up about it, so I opted to sell. And then I went around the roughest area of the city and handed every piece of gold to the families there. It’s just money; my family has enough of it and I didn’t need more. But they did. Kurt was both proud and horrified by it; he was so worried for my safety in that neighbourhood, but pleased by the act itself. But most aren’t going to try to rob the woman handing out coin so I was safe enough... I’m realizing it sounds as if I’m bragging about myself. That wasn’t my intention. It saddens me that such an act was even necessary; if there was proper education and support for the poorest citizens of the nation, we’d all be better off. For years I’ve pushed Loïc to speak to Uncle Adrien about increasing support for the most vulnerable.”   
  
“And I expect he declines to offer his assistance?” Vasco says dryly.   
  
“Generally he makes reference to those in the gutter needing to pull themselves up by their bootstraps and work until they’ve managed to secure enough wealth to purchase a business of their own or make investments. Not realizing that if you have nothing, every coin you make goes into trying to stay alive another day. I know you’d asked for a story about nobility and instead I’ve rambled on about investing and charity, but the truth is, I hated the intrigue and the parties. That was always my brother’s domain. I preferred to hide away. So I don’t really have that many stories like that and I’m relieved to be honest with you.” 

She wraps her arms around herself, wondering if she’s made herself too vulnerable this evening. Despite spending this time together, they don’t know each other _that_ well.   
  
“You’re shy. You hide it well, but I can tell you’re nervous when speaking to those you don’t know well. Seeing how nervously you spoke to Jonas the first week, even after you saved his damn life baffled me. You have a mask that you wear, but it tires you out; being someone you aren’t. I understand why you leave most of that life to your brother. At least he seems to enjoy the politicking.”   
  
“A little too much,” she says bitterly, before catching herself. She will not be more critical of her brother than she already has been this evening.   
  
“For what it’s worth, I enjoy you as you are. No games, no class, and no lies; just two people talking and learning from one another.” Vasco looks up at the sky. “But, on that note, I should probably get to bed. Sunrise is in about six hours. Day after tomorrow?”   
  
She smiles at him. “I’d like that very much.”   
  
It’s hot the next day, though not as hot as the previous few days have been. She sits on deck, trying to shield herself from the sun, when she sees Vasco walk past her. He removes his hat and slips his shirt off, throwing it to the side, and she’s almost certain that he gives her a subtle wink when he turns and looks over at her.   
  
Never again will she complain about the hot weather, she thinks, as she watches him work, sighing audibly.   
  
“Really, Ellie? You’re not even hiding it anymore,” Loïc says as he sits down next to her.   
  
Not that she was hiding it well in the first place, apparently.   
  
“As if you’ve never eyed Constantin when he was training with Kurt on hot days,” she whispers back to him. “He knows I’m staring and it doesn’t bother him.” In fact, she thinks he might be stripping down on purpose now.   
  
“Constantin is a respectable man.”   
  
She glares at him. “So is Captain Vasco.”   
  
Loïc laughs. “There is not a single respectable Naut in this world. They’re driven by greed and he’d toss you overboard as soon as he was finished having his way with you if it meant making a handful of coins.”   
  
Opting not to argue with him, she stands up and walks away, going over to chat with Flavia, knowing that her brother wouldn’t dare spew his prejudice within earshot of the crew. 

***

Growing up as a Naut means that he has remarkably little in the way of modesty. In the tight quarters of a ship you’re bound to see your ship mates - both male and female in various states of undress. 

Apparently this is not the case with nobles. Flavia had told him Elizabet was eyeing him that day a month ago and he thought it absurd. Turns out she was right. 

Since then he’s periodically stripped down when it hasn’t been... strictly necessary, enjoying her wide eyed gaze and the way her cheeks flush as she looks him over. 

It’s... surprisingly nice on the ego to know the daughter of a princess finds him attractive. 

In the back of his mind he’s aware that his little infatuation is dangerous and is likely to leave him heartbroken and adrift at sea. It’s not appropriate for a captain to get involved with passengers. And even if it was, she’s a noble and she’ll be walking right out of his life once they make port in New Sérène. 

He tells himself that it’s because she’s beautiful. That it means nothing. 

He’s always been shit at lying to himself. 

Elizabet is talking to her brother and looks upset. A frequent occurrence he’s noticed. There’s something odd about their relationship. Loïc is very much the sort of noble he always expects passengers to be and frankly he cannot stand the man. 

It is almost as if Elizabet was afraid of her brother. Elizabet dislikes noble life and nobility in general from all she’s told him but a fear of her own brother? 

Looking over, he notices with relief that Elizabet is speaking to Flavia. The smile is back on her face and she’s sneaking glances at him once again. 

They’re not meeting tonight but he sees her alone that evening looking up at the stars. She shivers. “Cold?” 

He already knows the answer. She’s terrible about remembering to bring a coat from her quarters. “You are perfectly free to tease me for my foolishness, Vasco,” Elizabet responds. 

“I’d rather show you a bit of mercy,” he says, removing his coat and placing it on her shoulders. She slides into it and sighs with relief, making his heart race. 

Seeing that small bit of joy on her face is worth being a little chilled in the evenings. “I’ve rarely come to expect such kindness,” she says. 

He sees an opportunity to prod gently about her brother. “Your brother wouldn’t do the same?” 

Elizabet laughs, but there is no joy; only bitterness in it. “If I were a woman on the street begging for a crust of bread all I’d get from him is the dirt on his boot when he kicks me. He does nothing unless it benefits him.” 

Or Constantin, he suspects. Lauro has told him he’s overheard them at night. They’re lovers. Perhaps something that’s accepted in the Congregation? 

“I’m sorry,” he says. He doesn’t know what else to say. Most of his life he has dreamed of having a sibling; to have one who is so unkind? No wonder she often seems so sad. 

“I’m used to it. Can I ask you a question?” 

“Aye.” 

“If a passenger fell in, what would happen?” 

He’s not sure if she’s merely curious or searching for details for some sort of damsel in distress fantasy of hers. “You’re not looking to take a swim, are you? Because if you are, I could take you in if we end up becalmed.” 

“Oh no,” she says quickly, “I’m not a very good swimmer, anyway.” 

Briefly he imagines teaching her how to swim and then he forcefully banishes the thought away. “To answer your question, I’d go in after them. I’m a damn good swimmer and it would be my duty to do so. If the search went on awhile, crew would go out in a lifeboat as well. But, I’m proud to say I’ve never had a passenger fall overboard. Don’t break my record,” he says. 

“I have no intention of it, I assure you.”

“Yesterday I told you about the time I saved the lad from drowning. But I didn’t tell you I nearly drowned myself when I was that age.” 

Elizabet looks over at him and even in the dim light he can see her concern. 

“I fell overboard. It was rough and, while I knew how to swim, the sea was too much for someone so small. I remember swallowing a lot of water and slipping beneath the waves. It was a strange thing; the last thought I remember having as I was trying to breathe underwater was that it was working. That I must have gills and just didn’t know it until that moment.” 

“What happened?” She whispers. 

“Next thing I remember is vomiting on Admiral Cabral. Captain Cabral back then. She’d been pushing on my chest until I coughed it all up. Didn’t do any damage; I was running around the ship causing trouble again a few days later. Probably regretted saving me in the end; little pain in the ass that I was,” he says. 

“But your lungs filled with water! You could have developed aspiration pneumonia! You’re certain it did not cause any damage?” She looks about ready to put her hands on him; not to hurt but to examine him, which is... interesting. 

“Nauts are very familiar with that risk. They forced a healing potion on me and I did spend a day or two in bed. No permanent damage, save for a fresh respect for the dangers of the sea. I did not intend to frighten. Suppose you were just looking troubled and I thought I’d make conversation, given what we had been discussing. Though my choice of stories was rather off, tonight.” 

Damn, is he an idiot. Elizabet is an anxious person and now she’s going to worry about something that happened nearly 20 years ago. 

“That’s twice you’ve told me stories about your life being at risk,” she observes. 

“And those aren’t the only stories I have. Dangerous life, being a Naut. I’ll hold off on the other tales for tonight. If I tell any others I suspect you’d drag me to Gustavo for a check-up.” 

Elizabet looks confused. “I wouldn’t - why would I...?” 

“Gustavo is most skilled at first aid so he’s been gifted with the role of the ship’s medic in addition to his regular duties. A duty he thoroughly despises and is keen to remind me of every time he has to tend to my battered body,” Vasco explains. 

“I remember you saying that. You wouldn’t need Gustavo...” Elizabet’s eyes go wide, as if she’s said something she shouldn’t have said. “Never mind. Would you like to hear about the time Constantin climbed the ramparts?” 

There’s something there. Something Elizabet is keeping a secret. A Congregation noble with skills in alchemy is unusual. In fact, he’s never heard such a thing. And her knowledge of the risk of aspiration pneumonia makes no sense because she’s not a Naut or a physician. 

Unless... her and her brother have the mark some of the islanders of Tír Fradí have. And of those, some of them use healing magic. Elizabet has shown herself to be competent in the area of magic. 

She must be a healer, he realizes. But why keep such a skill a secret? Now is not the time to poke at that. “Sure; tell me about the time Constantin climbed the ramparts,” he says.


	3. A Shared Flask

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elizabet mourns her mother and grows closer to Vasco.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: discussion of past physical abuse.

Ellie is sitting on the deck with the captain. Again. She’s been cagey about what exactly they’re up to, but she refers to it as ‘lessons’. 

Loïc sits with Constantin just out of sight. He looks around and, seeing that they’re alone, he takes his love’s hand. “It’s quite appalling isn’t it?” 

“What, my lucky star?” 

He gestures his head towards Ellie and the Naut. “My sister and the Naut. His behaviour is abominable.” 

Constantin rolls his eyes. “Stop smothering her. She likes him and it’s cute. It’s been a long time since she last liked someone, you know.” 

He didn’t know that. His sister never speaks to him about matters of the heart. “It’s never come up between us.” 

The sound of her laughter, bright and more enthusiastic than he’s heard in years rings through the night. Apparently the captain knows how to make her laugh. 

“It doesn’t come up often between us. She keeps that sort of thing quiet. But it’s been a long time since she last spent the night with someone. And she’s never spent a good night with anyone,” Constantin says. “She’ll be cross if she knows I told you that so keep it to yourself,” he adds with another look around to ensure they haven’t been overheard. “Hope she sleeps with him. The captain is handsome; he’d probably be a good fuck.” 

Hearing Constantin comment on the theoretical sexual prowess of another man makes him seethe with jealousy. It’s bad enough that he had to maintain appearances and have affairs with women. But to talk about another man in that way? Constantin notices. “You have nothing to be jealous about. It was just an observation; you know my heart is yours.” 

Loïc can’t resist; he leans over and gives him a kiss; one that’s rougher and more passionate than he normally dares to be outside the bedroom. “I hope she doesn’t, because he’s not good enough for her,” he says. And because it’s obvious it wouldn’t just be sex; Ellie has feelings for the man. 

“Think it’s her choice who is good enough for her, Loïc. Leave it be and let her have some fun. She’s lonely.” 

“Why would she be lonely? She has us!” 

Constantin pulls him closer. “And we’ve been together for years, even if it has been a secret. She’s cognizant of the fact that she’s often a third wheel or left out entirely. And she hates noble life, especially after what happened after her arranged marriage fell through.” 

They don’t talk about that often. It’s a sore spot; a painful memory. Ellie has never talked to him about it after they spoke the day after. He confessed his actions to Constantin who immediately blamed his father. 

“He’s just going to break her heart. You know how she is; she’s sensitive, anxious, gentle and far too easy to take advantage of.” 

How many times did he comfort her as teenagers after a social event stressed her out and brought her to tears? Or someone she was sweet on treated her unkindly? Day-to-day life is difficult for her and she needs to be sheltered from things that can hurt her. 

“Elizabet is tougher than you give her credit for. Her emotions are not a weakness,” Constantin says. “Come, I’d rather warm our bed than sit out spying on her.” 

***

The halfway point of the four month voyage. A day she’s been dreading. Mother had only been given two months to live shortly before they left. She’s almost certainly an orphan now. 

Loïc finds her sitting on the deck, trying to hold back tears. He wraps an arm around her. “You too?” 

“I can no longer pretend Mother isn’t dead,” she whispers, resting her head on his shoulder. 

“At least she isn’t suffering any longer. She was in such pain our last few weeks. You did all you could but after you left...” 

Mother would have suffered more once she left because she was not around to cast her spells or fiddle with the potion formulas. “I wish she’d let me stay. At least until...” 

“She didn’t want us to remember her on her death bed. We have to respect that, Ellie,” Loïc says. 

“I can respect it without liking it,” she retorts. 

“What is your favourite memory of her?” 

She smiles. “Easy answer. When she gave me Daisy. I’d wanted a cat so badly and she came into my room with a box and handed it to me. Before I could even open it, a fluffy little head poked out. I remember being happier than I’d ever been before. Daisy was the sweetest little cat. Just a wonderful companion. And... she died; two weeks after Mother was diagnosed. I was so heartbroken I thought I would die too.” 

“I’d forgotten about that cat. I can’t stand cats.” 

“Because Daisy favoured me over you,” she says, elbowing him and giggling. 

He elbows her back but has a warm smile on his face; a rarity. “No, because they’re mean. And insist on sleeping in bed with you. Wasn’t there a cat sleeping in your quarters on this ship? Sorbet or something?” 

She laughs. “Philbert, it turns out. Vasco caught me feeding him and told me he’s the ship’s mouser. Asked me not to feed him but he knows Philbert sleeps with me some nights. Says I’m spoiling him.” 

“Never thought I’d agree with that man on something,” Loïc grumbles. “I remember the first time I was invited to give a speech at a ball. Mother had asked that I have the honour. It was so thrilling to have the attention of hundreds of our peers; the most important people in the Congregation. Mother and Uncle helped me practice.” 

“Why don’t you like Vasco, anyway?” 

He looks at her as if she’s asked something irredeemably stupid. “Because he’s an asshole? He thinks he’s in the same class as us when he sails a damned boat.”

“Ship,” she says automatically and Loïc rolls his eyes. 

“Who cares?” 

“He’s actually quite nice. He’s gruff and can be brutally honest but he cares for everyone around him. Nobility is something he’s not especially comfortable with which explains his brusque manner the day we met him. His manner of communication isn’t what we were exposed to growing up but I like it. I always know what he’s feeling or what his intentions are. And he’s incredibly intelligent.” She doesn’t mention that he can be rather sweet because she suspects that’s not something he’d want to be common knowledge. 

“I doubt that,” Loïc scoffs. 

“He is,” she insists. “He’s observant. He can read people better than anyone I’ve ever met - including Uncle Adrien. And he can do extremely complex math in his head. Can you please give him a chance? I like him. And I’d like it if you two became friends.” 

Loïc stands up, signalling the end of their conversation. “That won’t be happening; I won’t stoop down to the level of associating myself with a Naut. You shouldn’t be either - what would Uncle think?” 

He’s walking away but she calls out after him. “I don’t care what that man thinks anymore!” Loïc stops and turns around as if to respond before seemingly thinking better of it and returning to his quarters. 

That night she’s overwhelmed. With grief as well as anxiety about her and Vasco; they’ve completed their lessons but she would so like to spend more time with him. Get to know him better on a more personal level. More than just lessons and sharing stories. With her anxiety threatening to cause a panic attack, she rushes away from her spot at the railing, running directly into Vasco in the process who grabs her by the arms to steady her. 

And he was kind enough to bring a flask of whiskey for them to share. While it may not be good whiskey, she could use a drink. 

“So, why whiskey? Based on the liquor rations I thought you’d be a rum drinker. Kurt is - and ale as well.” 

“Funnily enough, subsiding on shit rum is not the best way to develop a fondness for the stuff. Generally I don’t drink much, despite the reputation Nauts have. Don’t become a captain at my age with a hangover.” 

Vasco is ambitious - deeply so. Something she respects a great deal. “No, I suppose you wouldn’t.” 

“But to answer your question, I went to the tavern once I came of age and whiskey was the most interesting thing I’d tried so I stopped bothering to experiment with anything else. Afraid they were out of my preferred brand so I had to settle for swill for the duration of this voyage. You?” Vasco hands her the flask and she takes a swig before handing it back to him. 

“Most of the social events I was forced to go to served wine. My uncle was fond of whiskey. Constantin stole a bottle from him when we were teenagers and found I enjoyed it more than wine. Not that I’m a heavy drinker either - one must keep their faculties at balls and dinners, as much as I’d rather let loose a little.” Vasco raises his eyebrow and takes a swig; she accepts the flask and drinks. 

“So, ever shared a flask with someone before? Or should I have brought glasses? I’d wondered if I should; I’d hate to have insulted your noble sensibilities.” 

Elizabet laughs. “What noble sensibilities? I’m highly curious what they are because I’ve frequently been told I have none.” 

“You do talk like one. The way you stand reveals your station; your posture is almost perfect. At first your dress also gave you away but now I’d be hard-pressed to tell you apart from the other sailors based on clothing alone, save for the fact that your clothing is of much finer make than ours.” 

“All of those are physical tells,” she teases. “Am I irredeemably snobbish? Fussy about my accommodations? Have I threatened to poison anyone? Scratch that - have I actually poisoned anyone?” 

“I dare say you’re kind of a shit noble, Elizabet De Sardet.” 

Vasco is teasing her. But still, hearing it warms her more than any compliment she’s ever received from anyone else. He notices and looks concerned. “I didn’t cross a line did I?”

She shakes her head immediately. “Not at all. I’m quite touched, actually.” 

Vasco looks at her and there’s a softness to him that he’s occasionally let slip. A softness she is so unbelievably fond of. “I’m sure I could come up with a far sweeter compliment than that. I may not be good with sweet words but I’m not that inept.” 

“Well, if you’re to say something sweet, shall I start us off?” She’s just intoxicated enough to be brave enough to compliment the handsome captain. “You have a sense of ambition that I’ve seen rarely in life. And when I have seen it before, it’s an ambition tied to cutting others down to gain status. Before you ambition struck me as requiring cruelty. Not anymore. You’ve worked so hard your entire life; you’re skilled, you’re smart and you have a confidence that is well-earned. Never have I known a more capable man.” 

“I should have gone first,” he mutters just quietly enough that she has to strain to hear him. “You’re kind. Really kind. And from what little I know about growing up in the world you did, how you remained as you are is a mystery to me. But it speaks well of you. The world is cruel and I hope it doesn’t harden you because it would be a shame for the world to lose a light as bright as you.” 

Discreetly she wipes away a tear. “And you said you were bad at sweet words.” 

Their conversation makes her think of Mother. A woman who was distinctly noble and as comfortable at court as anyone ever could be. But whose warmth and love were always undeniable. Mother, who told her she is brave because every day she’s fighting a secret war against her anxiety. Who told her to pursue the hobbies that make her happy and who would sit and watch as she dissected the corpses of animals, even after the malichor stole her vision. 

“Would you like to talk about it?” Vasco asks, evidently noticing her shift in mood. 

“It’s hardly something to burden you with. I’d hate to do that to you.” 

Vasco takes a drink. “Have you considered that perhaps I can choose to help shoulder your burdens, should you trust me to do so?” 

She takes a drink before blurting it out. “My mother is dead. The malichor.” 

He takes her hand and squeezes it; the first time he’s touched her on purpose. “I’m sorry. When did she pass?” 

“Sometime in the last two months. She’d only been given that long before Loïc and I departed.”

She tries; she really tries to maintain her composure. But the wall she’s built trying to hide her emotions collapses and she bursts into tears. Arms wrap around her; at first she assumes it’s Loïc or Constantin but quickly realizes the body against her own is far too short to be either of them. 

Vasco hugs her as she cries about Mother. He smells like cinnamon, pine, gunpowder and sea salt and has a strength that she hadn’t expected, considering his lean frame. It feels so nice. He moves to step away once she calms and she finds she doesn’t want to let go of him. “Do... we have to stop?” She asks, her boldness fuelled by drink. 

She feels him looking around before taking her by the hand and walking with her. “Want to show you something. A place we won’t be bothered.” 

He brings her to the crow’s nest. “You go first, that way if you fall, I can catch you,” he says. “Please don’t fall, though.” 

“I’ve done far more dangerous things with Constantin and Loïc. I can handle a ladder, do not worry,” she says as she starts making her way up. “Thought you had someone on watch?” She calls down to him. 

“Lauro sticks to the deck when he works nights. And he’s working tonight which means we’ll be on our own.” 

It’s a tight squeeze for the two of them but he wraps his arms around her as they look out at the sky. “Let me know if you start to feel sick and we’ll get down,” he says. “Being up here can even make some of us Nauts sick.” 

She turns and wraps her arms around him, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. A gust of wind blows and she shivers. “Need my coat?” He asks her. 

“Not to wear,” she says quietly. 

Vasco hesitates for a moment before undoing it and pulling it off. They both sit and he drapes it over the two of them and wraps an arm around her. Feeling bold, she rests her head on his chest and wraps her arms around his torso. She hears his heart race briefly, before it settles into a more normal rhythm. 

This is all dreadfully inappropriate but it’s not sex. They’re cuddling and that’s fine, right? And she’s got no political title; Loïc does, which limits her theoretical power. “Do you mind?” 

“No,” he says immediately, sounding as if he feels very content with their current arrangement. 

Eventually his beating heart begins lulling her to sleep. He shakes her. “Can’t fall asleep up here; someone’ll notice,” he says. 

She smiles against him. “Then you’ll need to talk to me to keep me awake because your heart is putting me to sleep.” 

“There was something I’ve been meaning to discuss with you. I’d been reluctant for fear of overstepping but given,” he gestures down at them, “this, I feel as if I can speak freely.” 

Her heart skips a beat. Is he going to ask her to bed? “What is it?” 

A hand rests on her head. “My dear Elizabet, you are absolutely terrible with a sword.” 

Earlier in the day she’d been sparring with Kurt, Constantin and Loïc and saw that Vasco had been watching for awhile. 

She’s careful to hide her disappointment with a laugh. “Everyone knows that! Loïc is good with a sword; I’m good with magic. That’s always how it has been.” 

“And you are a skilled spellcaster, far as I can tell. But when you and your brother were fighting that creature, frequently you had to pause to let your magic refresh itself. Why didn’t you pull your gun out? Would it not make more sense to alternate between the two?”

“I... know how to fire a gun.” 

“Up close. But from afar?” 

Her silence speaks volumes, apparently. 

“Learn how to shoot and you’ll be unstoppable my dear.” 

“I’ll speak with Kurt in the morning.” 

Vasco runs a thumb over her cheek. "You should learn from someone who favours pistols, not someone who keeps one on their person when they can't sneak their sword past the prince's bodyguards."

Elizabet doesn't tell Vasco that Kurt always carried a sword around the prince because it seems overly pedantic, and his point still stands.

"Well then, who would you recommend?"

Vasco looks smug, leans down and whispers in her ear, "I will teach you how to shoot," he purrs.

It takes her breath away. How does he do that? She can only nod weakly against his chest. 

"Excellent! We'll start tomorrow; assuming the good weather I am expecting holds. I will track you down when I am able to spare an hour."

"Thank you, Vasco."

“How are you feeling?” He asks her, changing the subject. “Nauseous at all?” 

“Not at all.” It’s nice up here; the only sounds she can hear are the roaring wind, waves crashing against the hull, Vasco’s heart and his voice. 

“Really?” Vasco sounds surprised. 

“I’m good. I like it up here.” It’s getting late and she’s aware that soon they’ll have to leave to return to their respective quarters but she doesn’t want to. Not one bit. 

“Hmm. You might be Naut material,” he says lightly. 

Her biggest dream in life is to heal people. For several years now she’s been teaching herself as much as she can. She cannot be a doctor if she remains a Congregation citizen. But if she were to join the Nauts... “I think I might be,” she says, making it clear that she’s not joking. His arm tightens just slightly around her. 

They slip into silence and she adjusts slightly, looking for a comfortable position in the small crow’s nest. Vasco pulls her into his lap and rests his head against the wall. She closes her eyes, and this time, as the beating of his heart lulls her to sleep, Vasco does not wake her. 

A bright beam of sunlight hits her face and she wakes up. Initially confused; why is she outside and sleeping curled up in Vasco’s lap?

Then she remembers: they had shared a flask last night. She cried and Vasco consoled her. And brought her to a more private place where they could cuddle. She taps Vasco, who wakes up and groans as the light hits his eyes. He looks at her and curses under his breath. 

“Any chance we can get out of here without being teased relentlessly?” 

He looks up at the rising sun. “Doubt it.” 

Something that doesn’t actually bother her. “Well, we may as well stand tall and proudly, then. I doubt anyone will believe we didn’t actually do anything more than sleep.” She slides off his lap and onto the floor of the crow’s nest. 

Vasco stands up and helps her up. They climb out and for a moment she thinks they remained undiscovered but then they bump into Flavia who has a shit-eating grin on her face. “Up early?” 

“Indeed,” Vasco says, sounding almost bored with the questioning. 

“After being up late?” 

“Yes,” he says before walking away. She follows behind him and he walks to her quarters. “Here you are. I expect you might want to get some sleep in a proper bed.” 

“Will you go sleep for a bit?” 

Vasco shakes his head. “I’m up for the day. Going to grab some willow bark and a glass of water. I’ll see you later?” 

She smiles at him. “I’m looking forward to it.” 

“Where were you last night?” Loïc asks her when she emerges from her quarters a few hours later. “I was knocking on your door.” 

“Vasco and I were chatting last night,” she says, trying to sound as casual as possible so she doesn’t give away that they ended up falling asleep in the crow’s nest. 

Loïc’s eyes narrow slightly. “Strange. I didn’t see you in your normal spot. Where were you?” 

“Just wandering. Vasco offered to teach me how to shoot so we will have a lesson sometime today when he has a few minutes.” 

She wishes he’d stop asking so many questions. 

***

Technically the Naut is teaching her how to shoot. Technically. 

But he’s also using it as an opportunity to shamelessly flirt and grope her. Judging from the slight tinge of pink to her cheeks and the massive smile on her face; more genuine and carefree than he’s seen in years, she’s enjoying it. Loïc rolls his eyes and turns to him. “You’re our Master of Arms, can you not throw him overboard or something?” 

“Green Blood is grown. It’s obnoxious but she seems to be enjoying it, Lord De Sardet,” He smirks. “‘Sides, I don’t want to be stuck on this ship without our captain. Man knows what he’s doing.” 

He doesn’t know Captain Vasco at all, but Green Blood does and is clearly fond of him. She’s had a rough go of it. Prince d’Orsay openly favours her brother, and for most of her life she’s clearly been relegated as the ‘spare’ of the two. She just barely escaped an arranged marriage and endured a rather savage beating because of it, judging by her face that day. But despite her lack of importance being made clear to her, she hasn’t had the freedom to do what she really wants with her life. She’s desperately unhappy but doubts anyone knows it save for him. And maybe the captain. 

If she ends up opting to run off and join the Nauts to be by the side of the captain, he’ll not say a word to Lord De Sardet or Lord d’Orsay until the deed is done and her face is tattooed. 

Still, once the lesson is done he gets her attention. “Need you to tend to a few of my bruises,” he mutters under his breath. An excuse to talk to her alone. 

They walk to her quarters. “Where were you wounded?” 

He rolls up his sleeves revealing a few minor bruises on his arms. They don’t need treatment but if he meets with her under the auspice of needing treatment and she sees them later, she’ll give him a hard time. 

Cool hands touch his arms and a tingle of magic washes over him, clearing away the bruises. “Well done,” he says. 

“You didn’t just want me to tend to those, did you?” 

“Your brother dislikes the captain. Be careful.” 

Green Blood crosses her arms. “He dislikes him because I like him. He doesn’t think he’s good enough for me but he is! He’s a good man, Kurt. And... nothing has happened. We talk. I haven’t asked him to bed and he hasn’t asked me.” 

“Well, Lord De Sardet seems to think differently given that you weren’t in your quarters last night.” 

Her face flushes. “He took me up to the crow’s nest and we ended up falling asleep. _Nothing_ happened. We cuddled, is all.” She looks at him, a dreamy, faraway look in her eyes that he’s never seen on her. “It was really nice... I’ve never done that with anyone. Just held someone without any expectation of anything else.” 

She loves him. He can see it in her eyes, but he wonders if she realizes it yet. But it’s undeniable that she loves the captain and either she’s going to opt to stay with him or her heart is going to end up broken. 

“I’ll do what I can to reassure your brother but you know he tends to... prefer those of your station. He’ll never approve.” 

His relationship with Lord d’Orsay and Lord De Sardet has always been pleasant and professional, but both have always made him aware of his position. Green Blood has never treated him as anything less than an equal. He’s fond of her; openly so. In many ways she’s like a little sister. And, despite any reservations he may have about the captain, she has a genuine smile on her face for the first time in a real long time so he’s going to do his best to shield them from her brother’s disapproval. 

“It was him, you know. Loïc,” she says quietly, speaking almost reluctantly. He must look confused because she clarifies. “He beat me. On Adrien’s orders. That’s... why I keep my distance. He still thinks we’re close but we’re not. Since that day I’ve known what he is. He’s smart. Cutthroat. But cruel.” She sits in a nearby chair and bursts into tears, covering her face. “I love him but I don’t like him,” she spits out through her sobs. 

He had no idea. For all these years he assumed it had been Prince d’Orsay. But it explains so much about their relationship. Green Blood’s distance. Lord De Sardet’s overbearing behaviour. When she pushes away he only holds on tighter. “I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that. Least of all from your brother.” He hands her a handkerchief and she wipes her eyes and blows her nose. 

“You won’t tell anyone, will you? Especially not Vasco?” He shakes his head. “Thank you. I don’t think Vasco likes Loïc very much. Loïc has been rude to him and the crew. If he knew...” 

“Your secret is safe with me. You know I protect all three of you. Your uncle may have considered you the spare but I don’t,” he says. He can’t tell her she’s his favourite of the three but he hopes she can catch that he’s implying it. 

Before he leaves she gives him a hug, as she’s done for as long as she’s known him. That night, thinking back to the day she left the sitting room bruised and battered sends a chill down his spine. For years now she’s had to live with the fact that her beloved brother beat her, and has had to pretend it never happened. 

It won’t happen again, he decides.


	4. A Revelation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elizabet realizes her feelings for Vasco and confronts her brother regarding his cruelty.

Vasco’s hand inches down her abdomen as he stands behind her whispering instructions in her ear. She holds her pistol, aiming it at the glass bottle on the railing. “Fire,” he whispers in her ear and the desire in his voice makes her whimper. 

Loïc, Kurt and Constantin are nearby, of course, so things cannot go any further than this. She fires, and hits her target, which tips over into the sea. His grip on her tightens momentarily. “Well done,” he says and his breath against her cheek makes her shiver. He notices. “Is this a distraction?” 

“No,” she responds immediately and firmly. 

The heavy sound of boot steps can be heard on the deck, moving closer to where they stand. “I hadn’t realized it was common practice for a captain to molest his charges,” Loïc says loudly enough for everyone nearby to hear and Vasco jumps away from her as if burned. 

Several crew members working nearby stop and watch the confrontation with interest. 

She glares at Loïc. “He was teaching me! Captain Vasco has done nothing inappropriate. Please leave us be.” 

“I hadn’t realized fingering you was part of the lesson,” he says loudly, and her cheeks burn with shame and humiliation. Her eyes dart to the crew members who are looking down at the deck, trying to pretend they aren’t witness to this cruelty. 

“Apologies, Lady De Sardet,” Vasco says, rushing off before she has a chance to respond. 

He hasn’t called her by her formal title since she asked him not to and the new distance wedged between them breaks her heart. “Vasco...” she whispers. 

She’s in love with Vasco. And she hates that it took Loïc humiliating him to admit to herself what she suspects she’s felt for awhile. 

With a fury that shocks even her she grabs Loïc’s hand and drags him to his quarters. “How dare you?” She hisses. “You _know_ I like him. You know it! And you just humiliated him in front of his crew! Do you have any idea how cruel you just were? If you had concerns you bring them to me.” 

He stammers. “I was just trying to protect you! He’s a Naut; he’s not good enough for you.” 

“You’re fucking our cousin! How do you get to claim any moral high ground? I’ve _never_ judged you or said a single word about your relationship with Constantin. But the moment I find someone who makes me happy,” her voice breaks and a tear falls onto her cheek, “you lose your mind and try to ruin it. I’m going to go and apologize to him and try to repair what you’ve broken. Stay out of my business,” she pushes past him and storms away towards Vasco’s quarters. She knocks. “Vasco? It’s Elizabet. I was hoping we could speak privately.” 

“I don’t believe that would be appropriate,” his voice sounds strained. 

She rests her head on the door. “What Loïc did was unkind and so very wrong. I’m furious with him and have told him as much. You’ve done nothing I didn’t desperately want. And I was hoping to apologize on Loïc’s behalf.” 

The door opens. Vasco’s eyes are red and swollen and he steps back, wordlessly letting her in. He gestures to the bed and she sits. “You can’t keep apologizing on his behalf, Elizabet.” His voice sounds hollow and distant but that he’s calling her by name and not ‘Lady De Sardet’ is a good sign, she thinks. 

“I know him enough to know he won’t. So I do it for him.” 

Vasco sits down next to her. “The transgression wasn’t yours to apologize for. He’s not wrong, though. You’re a passenger. We’ve been... straddling a line for some time but it was completely inappropriate for me to initiate any sort of physical... affection,” he says. 

That he hasn’t ever invited her to bed finally makes sense. He’s been following the same rule she has. “And my family is your employer. I haven’t... taken things further because you could not consent.” 

Vasco smiles a little at that. “Suppose it would have saved us both a lot of frustration if we’d just communicated that before now.” 

All cards are on the table now. She decides to leap. “If... we both agreed, would you?” 

“Would I what?” 

She takes his hand. “Take me to bed?” 

His face twists as if in agony. “We’d be signing up for heartbreak. In six weeks you’ll disembark and we’ll never see one another again. Perhaps it’s better we don’t. Make it easier to part in the end.” 

“What if...” she can’t meet his eyes, “what if... I didn’t leave?” She says carefully. 

Vasco turns to look at her, dumbfounded. “You mean you’d book another passage on the ship?” 

Her head shakes. “I have a bit of a secret. You might have already guessed it.” Vasco is looking at her and she’s... nervous about revealing this. Old habits; being ordered to keep her greatest passion a secret for so long has just become what she does by default. “I heal with my magic. I’m limited right now but I’ve been practicing for years. And I’ve been teaching myself various medical and surgical techniques developed by doctors of the Bridge Alliance. I’d very much like to be a doctor one day... but that’s not a proper career path for a lady of the Congregation. But perhaps it would be for a Naut...?” 

As she expected, Vasco looks unsurprised by the revelation. “You’d... volunteer? To join?” She nods and instead of being happy, he looks almost upset by it. When he speaks he sounds panicked. “For me? You can’t throw everything away for me. You’re rich; you have everything you could ever want!” 

“But I don’t!” She cries, as she roughly wipes away the tears that have fallen onto her cheek and grasps his hand firmly. “I hate my life. Hate it. It’s been smothering me for years now and as every year goes by I feel a little more of myself slipping away. I don’t want to become the mask I put on in public; I want to be the woman you see every time we talk! Loïc is the politician, he’s the one tasked with finding the cure for the malichor. I’m Constantin’s assistant. The spare. I don’t matter. I’ve never mattered to anyone.” She chokes back a sob, “except to you. It wouldn’t just be for you, but for me as well. Would you accept me?” 

Vasco throws his arms around her and pulls her into a tight hug. She rests her head on his shoulder. “It wouldn’t be my call but the admiral’s. But I don’t see why she wouldn’t be happy to have someone in training as a doctor on the Sea Horse. If it’s what you truly want. Can I ask something of you?” 

“Anything,” she whispers. 

“Think about it. Truly think about it. Because there’s no going back. You’ve got your brother and your cousin to consider. I’d... understand if you changed your mind.” 

“I’m just the third wheel with them,” she says. 

“Aye, I suppose you are,” he says, revealing that he’s aware of the nature of their relationship. “Would you show me what you can do?” 

She lets go of him. “Do you have a bruise, cut or other minor injury?” 

“I’m a Naut; there’s always something.” He thinks for a moment. “There’s a bruise on my hip you could tend to?” 

“I can do that. You’ll need to undress. Should I turn and look away or wait outside?” Vasco gives her a funny look before pulling his shirt off and untying his breeches. “I thought it polite to ask,” she says sheepishly. 

“Figure you’ll be seeing me naked soon enough anyway,” he says. He lowers his breeches, revealing a painful looking bruise on his right hip. “Need me to take it all off or...” 

“Whatever you’re comfortable with,” she says. “I won’t be offended if you’re naked.” She would be... rather pleased by it but doesn’t say as much. 

Vasco shrugs and pulls his breeches off completely, followed by his smalls. “We aren’t known for our modesty.” A need to be professional keeps her from getting a proper look at anything aside from his hip. “You can enjoy the view, you know,” he teases. 

“Not until I’ve healed you. Can I put my hands on you?” He looks amused but nods his head and she rests her hands on the bruise, first casting a spell to take a look to ensure there isn’t any serious internal damage, which there isn’t. Vasco sighs and she stops, giving him a concerned glance. 

“Sorry. Whatever you’re doing feels nice is all. Never had anyone cast a spell on me before.” 

“Just a diagnostic spell to make sure you’re not hurt worse than you look. You’re not. Actually healing it is going to hurt so it is unlikely you’ll enjoy that part of it. Unless you’re into that sort of thing,” she says, giving him a wink. 

Vasco chuckles. “Not sure, never had anyone heal me before. Suspect that sort of pain is not the sort that I enjoy.” 

“So are you teasing me on purpose right now? Or is this inadvertent?” She asks. 

He looks rather pleased with himself. “So I am having an effect on you, am I? Is our current task to be abandoned in favour of a roll in the sheets?”

“No, this looks painful and I’d hate for you to make it worse. Shall I see what I can do for it?” 

“Go for it.” She puts her hands on his hip again and casts, focusing on the tissue underneath his skin. Vasco stiffens slightly and she apologizes. “You’re good. Keep going,” he says. They both watch as the bruise fades, going from an angry purple to yellow before she’s tapped out. 

“If I go get a magic potion I can probably get it completely healed,” she says and he shakes his head. 

“No need. Can hardly feel it now. Much as I’d like to have you now, I do need to get back to work and I don’t want to simply fuck and run. You deserve better than that for our first time. Would you like to stay here?” 

She’d like to but the others are more likely to give her privacy if she makes an appearance before disappearing for the night. “Shall I meet you here once the sun sets?” 

“I’ll see you then,” he says and with some reluctance he stands and gets dressed once more. She stands as well and his hand is on the knob of the door before he turns to face her, looking bashful. 

Elizabet approaches him, cups his cheek and kisses him. His mouth opens, his tongue sliding against her mouth, seeking invitation. She deepens the kiss as he pulls her more tightly against him, tasting cinnamon on his tongue. When he lets her go it seems to be with a great deal of reluctance. “Later. We’ll do that again later,” he says breathlessly before walking out the door. 

She wanders the ship and sees Loïc with Constantin and nods in acknowledgement but does not join them. Loïc runs after her and rests his hand on her shoulder. “How are you doing?” 

“Fine,” she says, her voice clipped. 

“Did you and the Naut talk?” 

She turns and glares at him. “His name is Vasco! _Captain_ Vasco to you! He’s worked hard to earn his rank and you will respect him,” she speaks loudly enough so the nearby crew can hear her defence of their captain. 

Loïc’s hands go up in defeat. “Fine, fine, did you talk to your _captain_?” 

“I did. I apologized on your behalf but I’d like for you to go and apologize to him personally.” She crosses her arms and looks expectantly at him. 

“Why does this mean so much to you? You’ve apologized, let that be enough.” 

“And you haven’t! Go. Now.” She points in the direction Vasco left in. 

“Just go; you were kind of an ass,” Constantin chimes in which is enough to ensure that she’s won the argument. Shaking his head, he walks away towards Vasco. 

***

Vasco meets her outside his quarters once the sun sets and they enter wordlessly. “I told Kurt where I’d be. He was irritated to hear the implication of what we would be up to because he thinks of me like a sister but has promised to keep Loïc away,” she says. 

“He apologized to me. Said he should have ‘expressed his concerns with more discretion’. I told him you were a grown fucking woman who can make your own decisions and that it was creepy of him to meddle.” 

“He must have loved that,” she says with a sigh. “I hope he wasn’t rude to you.” 

“I do not mean to offend but I don’t actually give a shit what that man thinks of me, aside from any potential career repercussions a complaint from him would cause,” he says as he removes his coat and hat. 

“I’ll make sure nothing comes back to hurt you, I promise. Loïc is over-protective but if I actually get angry with him he tends to back off. We were close once. He still feels very close to me.” 

“Did something happen between you two?” She nods and says nothing more and Vasco doesn’t ask. He sits on the bed next to her. “Would you still like to...” 

“Yes,” she says immediately and with desperation. “So much.” He kisses her and her hands slide under his shirt, running her fingers along his chest and the hard planes of muscle of his abdomen.

He pulls back and takes his shirt and breeches off and she follows suit, just a little nervously; it’s been some time since anyone has seen her naked and she hopes to be satisfying for him. 

She needn’t have worried. He stares openly at her as if she were the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. “Oh Elizabet - you are so beautiful,” he whispers, extending his hand towards her, “come lie down beside me.” 

When she does, Vasco turns and pulls her close, resting his forehead on hers. “What do you like?” He asks. 

Nobody has ever asked her that before. “I’m not sure? I can bring myself to climax but...” 

“Are you a virgin?” He asks her softly. 

“No!” She says emphatically. “I just haven’t had any particularly enjoyable sexual experiences.” 

“No man has ever...” 

“Or woman,” she adds quickly. 

Vasco gives her a kiss. “I see we are one and the same, then. Makes no difference to me whether my partner is a man or a woman.” 

He understands, then. “Constantin is also bisexual. Loïc is only attracted to men. Kurt, only women.” 

Vasco starts kissing down her neck, towards her chest. “May I?” 

“Yes. Please,” she begs and she can feel Vasco smile against her breast. 

***

He collapses beside her, pulling her close and nuzzling her neck. “Good?” 

“Bit more than ‘good’, I’d say. Can we do that again in a bit?” 

“I suppose so, since you asked so nicely,” he says, chuckling. 

She looks at him, feeling very serious, wondering if she should confess the realization that she’s come to today. That she’s in love with him. It’s been just two and a half months but she knows what she wants, and it is to spend life at his side. “Elizabet?” 

“If I were to be a little foolish right now, what would you think?” 

He tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “I’d say if we really think about it, we’re already being rather foolish so why not be a little more so?”

Her eyes well up and Vasco looks at her, concern in his eyes. “I love you,” she whispers nervously, feeling more vulnerable and more naked than she’s ever felt with anyone. 

Vasco kisses her and runs his thumb along her mark tenderly. A loving touch, not the cold, clinical touches of all those curious about the strange, identical marks her and her twin brother have. “I love you too.” 

Words she never expected to hear. She kisses him hard, pressing her body against his, willing him to understand just how much he means to her. “Might I make a silly request?” He asks. 

He’s piqued her curiosity. “And what sort of silly request would that be?” 

“Could I... perhaps see you with your hair down?” 

Her hair is still braided and pinned up, as it always is when she’s out in public. Not since she was still a child has she felt the wind blowing in her hair. Assuming she slept here she would have taken it down but she’s happy to do so now and reaches up to start pulling pins out. “So, what do you think it looks like when it’s down?” She asks. 

“It looks thick. Long as well, I assume?” 

She smiles. “Very. I’d be seen as rather sloppy were I to go out in public with it down. The Congregation likes everything tucked away.” 

“Fools.” Her hair down, she removes the tie and starts undoing her braid, revealing that her thick, wavy chestnut hair falls to her elbows. Vasco’s eyes go wide. “Absolute fools. You’re beautiful.” His fingers reach towards her. “May I?” She nods and he runs his fingers through it. 

She reaches over and touches his own hair. “I’m rather fond of yours, as well. I’ve always liked long hair. Admittedly the whole package is rather nice; I like tattoos and piercings too. And ‘smart-ass sea captain’ is apparently my type.” 

“Never thought ‘sweet and gentle doctor’ was my type. A lovely thing to discover.” 

That he refers to her as a doctor and not a noble makes her heart skip a beat and she smiles at him. “I’m not quite a doctor yet. There’s still much for me to learn.” 

“And you will learn it. I know you will.” 

Her fingers dance over the marks she left below his collarbone in the midst of their lovemaking. They make her smile and she leans over and whispers in his ear. “I’ve marked you. I think this means you’re mine now.” 

“I always was.”


	5. Storms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A storm hits and the conflict between Elizabet and Loïc continues.

“Where were you last night?” Loïc asks her the next morning. 

“With Vasco,” she says dismissively. “Where were you?” She asks with a pointed stare. 

She’s made her point and he doesn’t push any further. For now. 

“So, was he everything you’ve ever dreamed of, Cousin?” Constantin asks brightly when he sits down beside them. 

“I’m not one to give details. I had a lovely evening,” is all she says. 

“You’re going to get your heart broken,” Loïc mutters to her once Constantin wanders off to grab some tea. “You’ll never see him again in six weeks. He’ll probably put his bastard in your belly, shaming you even further.” 

“And you’ve spent - what, twelve years in a secret relationship with your _cousin_ , whom you can never marry? Having to watch as he has affairs to maintain appearances?” She wags her finger at him. “Don’t you dare lecture me about my relationship choices. I have my life well in hand.” 

Loïc deflates and looks genuinely sad. “You didn’t need to strike back like that, you know.” 

“Evidently I did because you won’t let this go. What Vasco and I do is our business; no one else’s,” she says firmly. 

“Fine. Fine. I’m just trying to protect you. You’re sensitive. Easy to crush. You’re not strong like I am so you need someone to take care of you.” 

Since her broken engagement he’s become more paternalistic with her. She hates it but suspects it’s the end result of her attempts to maintain distance. He becomes even more overbearing which just pushes her farther away. 

“There are different kinds of strength, Loïc. It’s about time you learned that,” she says before walking away. 

***

“I’ve noticed your brother calls you ‘Ellie’,” Vasco says as they’re cuddling in bed after making love. “Is that your preference?” 

She snorts. “I hate it. Absolutely hate it.” 

This seems to amuse Vasco. “Why not tell him to stop?” 

“Oh, I have. It’s just not worth picking a fight over. I know how to choose my battles with him.” 

“Well, if you join up, you’ll be asked to select a new name, anyway. I’ll strike ‘Ellie’ off the list,” he says, making her giggle. 

Vasco has never spoken of her intention to join the Nauts as a certainty. Perhaps not wanting to make her feel pressured. It’s kind of him, but she knows what she wants. Joining the Nauts starts her on the path to becoming a doctor. 

“Crew knows about us, by the way. Overheard some gossip this morning. Gave them a hard time for chatting so openly about a passenger’s private business; I don’t really care who knows about who I’m spending the night with but you deserve your privacy.”

She’s unbothered by the news. “I don’t really care if they know or talk about it. Assuming I join your crew once we land it’ll be entirely obvious by then.” 

“It’s entirely obvious now, Tempest. I’m sorry; I should have shown more discretion.” 

“Walls are thin, if they didn’t see me enter your quarters they would have heard the culmination of our evening activities. Please don’t be concerned on my behalf; I truly don’t mind. Why would I ever be ashamed of loving you?” She knows why, of course. A noble and a Naut in a romantic relationship is unheard of. Sex or a discreet affair, sure, but to openly love one another? It’s bizarre and she’ll be subject to gossip at court. But she already is, anyway. 

It’s subtle but she can see Vasco blinking rapidly as he looks at her, deeply touched by her proclamation. “I was Sea Given,” he says, his voice sounding rough. “From Sérène I think, likely a noble family. But I don’t know who. It’s... frustrated me, for a long time now. I’d like to know who I am.” 

“Can you ask the admiral? Surely there would be paperwork somewhere that would give you the answer. And then I’d be happy to give an introduction if I am able.” 

He shakes his head. “I need to wait until I get promoted to the rank of commander. So, years from now. Or - never. I was given away to fulfill the terms of a contract or to settle a debt, but I prefer not to think about that.” 

She holds onto him more tightly. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help. I might be able to find something on your behalf.” 

***

A bad storm hits, confining them all to their quarters. Loïc and Constantin are presumably together in Constantin’s quarters and she knows Kurt is in his, likely wishing for his own death given his tendency towards seasickness on even the mildest of days. It’s bad enough that even she vomits a few times, and she hasn’t been prone to seasickness at all. 

Water sloshes around on the floor but luckily her bed remains mostly dry. Eventually she falls asleep; the dark sky makes it impossible to tell what time it is and a lantern would be too dangerous in this sort of weather so it’s not as if there’s much else she can do while the sea tosses them around. 

She wakes to a knock on the door. She opens it to find Flavia carrying a tray, which she places on the side table. Her eyes dart outside before she closes the door. “Cap took a bad fall and is pretty beat up. Being a stubborn ass about it like he usually is. He mentioned to me that you know how to heal. Can you track him down and tie him to a bed? He likes you and might be more inclined to actually listen when you tell him to stop working.” 

Her stomach sinks at the news and she immediately begins imagining the most catastrophic of scenarios. Flavia sees her panic. “Think he just broke a few ribs; he’s not going to die, he’s just going to feel like shit for awhile,” she says quickly. 

“And depending on the severity of the break they can lead to all sorts of nasty complications. Punctured lung, lacerated spleen, pneumonia if he wraps them too tightly and isn’t taking deep breaths... I need to find him now,” she says with desperation. 

Flavia stops her. “Eat first. He won’t let you touch him if you’re about to pass out,” Flavia says. “We all know he’s beat up and we’re not letting him do anything particularly stupid.” 

She has no appetite whatsoever but she forces the oatmeal down, and drinks the lukewarm tea before grabbing her medical bag. That she packed enough potion ingredients to brew additional healing and magic potions was a smart idea; she should have enough to tend to him. And she picked up a pain relieving draught before leaving, just in case of an emergency so if she can convince him to take the day off she’ll give him that as well.

Vasco is at the helm and sees her carrying a bag and groans audibly. “I’m _fine_ ,” he says, sounding extremely irritated. “Someone painted a bleak picture but all they’ve done is scared you.” Still, when Flavia relieves him at the helm he makes his way over to her, likely recognizing that she’s not going to let this go. 

She puts her hands on her hips and looks at him. “Then you’ll allow me to cast my diagnostic spell, then? And if I think you need treatment, you’ll come with me to your quarters?” 

He sighs. “Cast your spell.” She steps closer to him and unbuttons his shirt, wincing as the mottled mix of purple, blue and red shows itself, making her gasp. 

“Oh Love... I don’t even need to cast my spell to tell you that you need to come with me. Please let me take care of you.” 

Vasco softens. “I’m needed on deck; I can’t just fuck off.” 

“You’re hurt. Surely they can manage without you for the next few days? Things look calm enough.” 

“I can handle things for the rest of the day and tomorrow, Cap,” Flavia hollers at them. “Follow whatever orders your sweetheart gives you. Now go,” she says, pointing in the direction of his quarters. 

“Poor form to tattle on me, y’know,” Vasco calls back. 

“I disagree,” Elizabet chimes in, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. “You’re dead on your feet; lean on me,” she says as they make their way to his quarters. 

They walk past Kurt who whistles when he sees the bruising on Vasco’s torso. “That looks like it hurts. Green Blood - you’re tending to him?” 

“Yes. Can you tell the others? I’ll be busy for... awhile and do not wish to be interrupted.” 

Kurt understands what type of interruptions she’s referring to. “I’ll keep them all in line. Captain - listen to her; she’s good at that stuff.” 

“I’ve healed any injuries we’ve received during spars the last few years,” she explains. She walks them into his quarters and locks the door. When she sees him struggling to remove his coat, she helps him get it off his shoulders before helping him remove the rest of his clothing. “I’ve got a potion that will help with the pain that I can give you if you’re still feeling badly after I’ve healed you. It will make you sleepy and I don’t expect you want to sleep in your breeches,” she says by way of explanation. 

He lies in bed and she pulls a chair up beside him. “I need to check to see how bad things are - may I touch you?” 

Vasco gives her a quiet laugh and winces. “Don’t need to ask to touch me.” 

She puts her hands on his chest and starts casting her spell. “It’s a good practice to be in.” Moving her hands across his body, she checks to determine the extent of the damage. “Heart looks fine,” she murmurs, “and no punctured lungs, which is good news.” 

“I could have told you that. Punctured my lung once and felt like I was drowning. Won’t ever forget what that feels like,” he says, gesturing to the thick knot of scar tissue just off the centre of his torso. She’d wondered what had happened there. 

“You’ll have to tell me that story sometime. Looks like two of your ribs are cracked and you have some soft tissue injuries but nothing that will kill you. Now, a bit of bad news...” Vasco lifts his head and looks at her. “I’ve never healed broken bones before. So I’m not sure how effective I’ll be or if I’ll be able to fix them completely. But if you consent, I’d like to try.” 

He smiles at her. “So I’m to be a practice subject then? Sounds good to me.” 

Concentrating, she places her hands over the cracked ribs and sends waves of energy towards them, willing them to mend. She feels Vasco stiffen under her hands as she works. “Tell me if you need me to stop or want to take a break,” she says and he nods, his eyes firmly closed and his hands balled tightly in a fist. She takes her first magic potion, followed by another as soon as she’s tapped out. 

Slowly the bones start to knit back together but she knows enough to know that she won’t be able to heal them completely today. Once they stop responding she turns her focus to his other injuries, doing what she can as she takes a third magic potion. 

Vasco’s hand reaches out to grab hers before she can take a fourth. 

"You've taken too much; I can feel your hands shaking as you work."

"I'm just tired, Vasco," she argues.

"'In large amounts, borage causes dizziness, heart palpitations and shaking in the limbs.'" He raises his eyebrow at her.

"Are you...quoting one of my lessons?"

"That was the general idea." 

"I can do a little more. The bruising is still significant and your muscles are badly strained."

Vasco shakes his head. "I'll not have you put yourself at risk for me."

Elizabet uncorks a healing potion and hands it to him. "Then humour me and take this?" 

He tips it back, gagging almost immediately but swallowing it down. 

She grabs a pillow and helps him sit up, placing the pillow against his chest. “You need to take some deep breaths.” 

Vasco stares at her blankly. “You’re fucking with me.” 

“I am not. It will help prevent pneumonia. The pillow will help.” He looks mystified but allows her to walk him through a series of breathing exercises before she helps him lie back down. 

“Definitely a fancier doctor than any I’ve ever seen. Including the cook who pulled the bullet out of my lung.” 

Her eyes go wide. “You were shot? A _cook_ treated you?” 

Vasco looks amused by her panic. “I was 15. Someone was cleaning a gun with a bullet in the chamber and I was where it happened to end up. We don’t have doctors in the sense you understand them but whomever is most skilled at first aid tends to be deemed the ship’s medic. On this ship it was the cook and he used the same knife on me that he used to prepare dinner the night before.” 

She feels like she is going to vomit. “How are you still alive?” She asks, reaching out to touch the scar tissue from his injury. 

“Luck, probably. Was out for several days and scared the shit out of the cook when I woke up because he thought I was dead. Your methods feel a lot better, by the way. A few swigs of rum is not enough when someone sticks their filthy fingers inside you to fish out a bullet,” he says, almost off-handedly and far too calmly. 

The thought makes her shudder. “Speaking of pain, how is your pain?”

“It’s no bullet to the lung,” he says and when he notices her expression, turns serious once more. “But it’s unpleasant. I wouldn’t say no to anything you had to make it slightly less unpleasant.” 

She hands him the potion. “You’ll be sleepy and likely in an altered state of mind so if you need to give any orders or instructions to your crew...” 

“Flavia told me to take the rest of today and all of tomorrow off. We’ve known each other since we were teenagers and she’s like a sister to me; if I show up on deck she’ll give me a good chewing out. She’ll make sure everything is taken care of,” he says, uncorking the bottle and drinking it. “Much more pleasant than that other potion.” 

She takes his hand. “I’ll need to stay here and keep watch for awhile - make sure your breathing doesn’t slow too much. That can happen with that potion and I’m not sure how you’ll react to it, and -“ 

He squeezes her hand. “You’ll take good care of me. Holler outside if there’s anything you need, but would you come lie down with me? You’ve worn yourself out.” 

Before lying in bed she strips down to her smalls and slides under the covers on the other side of his bed, turning to face him. Tentatively, she reaches her hand over and runs her fingers along the tattoos on his body. “You do that often; you like them, then?” 

“I love them,” she says with a smile. “I hope one day to hear all of the stories told on your body. Speaking of, why is the spot over your heart bare? The rest of your torso is covered.” 

“That story is still being written,” he says, looking at her pointedly, as if he’s gazing into the depths of her soul. It sends butterflies to her stomach and makes her blush. 

Eventually the gaze breaks and he closes his eyes as she rests her hand flat over his heart. “I hope to tell every story I have to you. And to know everything about you in return. To experience all sorts of things by your side.” He takes a deep breath - something that helps ease the worry churning inside her because it means the potion is working. “I want forever with you. To know you better than anyone else. If... you don’t decide to join us right away, would you let me stop by next time I’m in New Sérène?” His eyes open, unfocused and glassy. 

This isn’t a conversation they should have now, when he may not remember it and his tongue is far looser than it would normally be as a result of the potion. “Love, I want a life by your side. It’s only been three months that I’ve known you and I’m aware things have moved fast but I know. I just know. But we can talk about this later. Close your eyes and get some sleep.” 

“I love you,” he slurs. “So much.” 

Her eyes well up. “I love you too. You’re the only person I’ve ever fallen in love with. These last three months have been... a dream. And I don’t want to wake up because you’re... everything I could possibly want in a partner.” 

He smiles in response and closes his eyes again. “Feels nice,” he mutters. 

The next morning, as the sunlight shines through the porthole, she watches the steady rise and fall of his chest and smiles, not quite believing her luck. “Y’know, some don’t take kindly to being watched as they sleep,” Vasco says, eyes still closed. 

“Does it bother you?” This isn’t the first time she’s woken before him and watched him. “I’m sorry - I...”

“Doesn’t bother me. Think it’s rather sweet that you find it so entrancing to watch me sleep. Sorry; was just giving you a hard time.” Reaching out, she rests her hand on his chest and casts, looking him over. “Don’t do too much; you overdid it yesterday,” he says. 

“Just want to make sure your condition hasn’t deteriorated at all since I last checked you. You’re fine.” His stomach growls. “Hungry, though. Shall I get us breakfast?” 

“I should get up and make an appearance outside,” Vasco says, sitting up far too quickly. She winces sympathetically and he curses, falling back. “Fuck me. Help me up?” 

“I’ll help you up, but you need to rest. If you’re feeling well this afternoon we can go for a walk around the ship but you were told to take today off and I’ll be making sure you do.” Wrapping an arm around his shoulders, she helps him sit up, and then stand up. He leans against the desk. She dresses and steps outside his quarters, making her way to the kitchen. 

Loïc approaches her and wraps his arm around her. “Heard you were practicing your healing last night. Does the captain still walk among us?” 

“He does,” she says, glaring at how casually he could ask such an unpleasant question. 

“I’d thought to offer myself as a chaperone. Ensure nothing untoward happened to you. But Kurt told me no. That you’d asked for privacy and it is his duty to ensure you received it. What is wrong with him anyway?” 

Rolling her eyes, she picks up the pace, shrugging his arm off of her. “His injuries are none of your business unless he tells you himself. And I can assure you, we’ve spent enough time unclothed together to make your offer to chaperone an absolute waste of your time.” Control. It’s an attempt to control. 

“Shall we spar today? Perhaps with enough practice you’ll get better with a sword?” 

She laughs at that. “That will never happen. I’m grabbing breakfast for Vasco and I and we will spend the day together.” 

“A Naut captain who skips work? They do promote the best,” Loïc says disdainfully. 

“A Naut captain who was wounded on the job and is in need of rest to recover,” she says. 

She grabs enough food for the two of them and is about to pour tea for them both when the cook - a woman named Sofia stops her. “That is for Captain Vasco?” She nods. “He won’t drink the tea we keep out; I’ll make his for you.” The woman rushes away before she can offer to make it. 

Loïc, in the midst of grabbing his own breakfast, laughs. “What a snob. Who does he think he is?” 

“A man who is apparently fond of a specific type of tea? Tell me, Loïc, have you ever drank the alcohol they offer to passengers on board or do you stick to your private wine stash? How often have you turned your nose up at the food prepared for us and snacked on the nuts and preserved fruit in your quarters? You’ve even commented on the damned dishware the food is served on. You are the last person to accuse _Captain_ Vasco of snobbery, simply for opting to enjoy a simple pleasure in life.” 

Sofia returned in the midst of her argument with her brother and looks nervous. Elizabet smiles at her. “I’m so terribly sorry you had to witness that unpleasantness. I despise rudeness and call it out when I see it. I’m grateful for you and I’m sure the captain will be grateful as well.” 

“You are welcome, Lady De Sardet; I was just doing my job is all,” the woman stammers. 

“Elizabet. Please call me Elizabet. I don’t give a shit about my title and would rather avoid that formality.” Soon she will be a Naut and will have shed that silly title. Her brother is staring at her, mouth agape. She turns to him. “Loïc, dear brother, close your mouth. You look like a baby bird.” 

Loïc does not follow her when she leaves and she giggles to herself, enjoying her victory over him this morning. Before returning to his quarters she stops in at her own and fills her flask; she promised Vasco good whiskey and sharing a flask might be a good way to spend the afternoon. At the very least it should ease some of the pain he’s in. 

Vasco sees the spring in her step when she walks in. “Something has made you especially cheerful this morning and I didn’t even get you off before you left...” 

“Oh, I just managed to piss off my brother.” She places Vasco’s breakfast on the desk and pours him a cup of tea. 

“Sofia caught you then. I’d realized I’d forgotten to tell you I’m particular about tea. It’s from the Bridge Alliance. See no point in drinking subpar tea.” He takes a sip and looks pleased. 

“And that explains why you smell - and taste like cinnamon. Loïc has accused you of snobbery. I set him straight. Only I may call you a snob,” she says and Vasco laughs, which turns into a cough. Rushing over, she presses a pillow to his chest. “I’m sorry, Love. I’ll try to be less funny.” 

“Don’t you dare. I’m quite fond of your sense of humour. I’ll endure the discomfort.” 

“I brought us a flask. Figure it might help a bit and if it doesn’t, it’s good whiskey at least.” 

“If you weren’t already my favourite person, by that act alone, I’d make you my favourite.” Vasco takes a bite of food off his plate. 

“I’m your favourite?” It touches her; probably more than it should. 

“Yes?” Vasco looks at her as if it should have been obvious. 

She takes a bite of food, giving her a moment to consider her response. “I’ve never been anyone’s favourite before.” 

“Kurt is extremely fond of you,” Vasco says. “It’s quite obvious, really. He talks to you about matters not specifically related to his duties. I’ve seen the two of you chat every day - there are entire days where your brother and cousin don’t so much as say hello to him. He cares for you. Not romantically,” Vasco says quickly, “that much is clear to me.”

“Yes, I knew that much,” she says, amused. Kurt has always been uncomfortable talking with her about matters related to intimacy or romance. 

“Point is, he’s in your corner. And, while I’ve had my reservations about Coin Guards, he’s a good man. I respect him.” 

After breakfast she puts her hands on him and does as much as she can before Vasco stops her. “I’ll not have you exhaust yourself when I’m feeling far better than I was yesterday. Let’s just rest and enjoy our time together.” 

“No lifting for at least two weeks. You will be fine to go back to work tomorrow so long as you take it easy.” She gives him a look, knowing he tends to be stubborn. 

“Yes, yes, I’ll be good. Now that the crew knows you’re my lover they also know to tattle on me to you,” he says, almost impatiently. 

They go for a walk and most members of his crew approach to check on him. He receives them all politely, assures them he will be fine and that he will be back on deck the next morning. “They all adore you,” she says. “As they should; you’re an excellent captain.” 

“I work with a good crew. Makes it easy for me to look good. That, and I know what I’m doing,” he adds, just as she was thinking she’d have to comment on his modesty. Vasco is a confident man - never arrogant, but he is well aware of his strengths and weaknesses. 

Kurt approaches. “Your brother is sulking. Apparently you humiliated him at breakfast.” 

“If you call, ‘defending myself and Captain Vasco against his rudeness’ humiliating then sure. Where is he?” 

“In your cousin’s quarters. Suspect it would be wise to give that area of the ship a wide berth for now.” Kurt doesn’t need to go into any more detail. Her and Vasco both understand perfectly. “How are you, Captain?” 

“Much better thanks to Elizabet. Not entirely healed but she’s cut my recovery time in half.” 

Kurt clasps her on the shoulder. “Look at you! Now you can add ‘mending broken bones’ to your list of things you can heal. World’ll make a doctor out of you in no time.” 

She smiles at him. “I hope I can continue my training somehow.” On Vasco’s ship, as a Naut, she thinks. 

The two of them stand and look out at the sea. Dolphins are swimming and leaping out of the air in the distance and the water is calm and a brilliant blue. For some reason, her childhood fantasy of kissing a Naut at sea comes to mind. Her and Vasco have kissed - many times, in fact, but never outside of his quarters. She looks around and sees that, while they’re not alone, nobody is paying them any mind. “Would you indulge a rather silly request?” 

Vasco turns and looks at her. “How may I indulge you?” 

“Give me a kiss?” 

Without hesitation he leans in and kisses her. The sea salt spray hitting her skin, the cool wind and the very handsome Naut kissing her makes this even better than her childhood dreams ever were. “I expect there is a reason behind the request,” Vasco murmurs against her lips. 

“When... I was little I used to go down to the port sometimes to watch Nauts load the ships. I always had a great deal of... appreciation for Nauts in a...” she feels very awkward right now. 

“You like tattoos and piercings,” Vasco finishes for her. 

“And the lean frames commonly seen amongst Nauts. The lifestyle too - the idea of being free and at sea always appealed to me. Far better than being stuck in the palace in a dress I can hardly move in.”

She fidgets a little, unable to keep her hands still. “So I used to daydream as a child. A lot. And often I’d imagine kissing a Naut at sea. Sometimes a man and sometimes a woman. We’ve kissed, but never outside your quarters and in my fantasy we were always on deck and I just thought it might be nice to see what the reality was like is all,” she stammers, feeling just a little foolish. 

Vasco leans in and kisses her again. “So, did I match your expectations? Or was the fantasy better?” 

“You’re so much better than anything I ever could have imagined,” she whispers. 

“Here is where I admit that I’ve never fantasized about kissing a noble. But I’m quite pleased to be doing so.” He extends his hand. “Shall we return to my quarters and get drunk?” 

She takes his hand. “I look forward to it.” 

They’re three sheets to the wind when there’s a knock on his door late in the afternoon. “Who is it?” Vasco calls out. 

“Constantin. Thought I’d stop by to see my beloved cousin.” Vasco looks over at her, his eyes asking her if he should invite him in. She nods. 

“Come in,” Vasco calls out. 

The door opens and Constantin walks in. He looks amused when he sees the pair of them. “Having a fun afternoon, I see?” 

“It’s a good painkiller,” Vasco says. He points at her. “And she’s earned the right to have a bit of fun.” 

“That she has,” Constantin agrees. “Captain, if I may say, your tattoos are quite impressive. This is the first I’ve seen them up close. Aside from the ones on your face, of course.” 

“Appreciate the ogling but I am spoken for,” Vasco says, looking over at her and winking. 

“As am I. Doesn’t mean I cannot look. Though, I’d rather that little fact remain in this room.” 

“Can I have you bring us some water? We’ve had a bit to drink,” Elizabet says. 

“Am I the serving staff on this fine vessel now?” Constantin says, looking put-off. 

“No, but I’d really rather Loïc not get worked up over a member of the crew seeing me drunk and in bed with Vasco so please save me from that lecture.” 

“Fair enough,” Constantin says. “Anything else?” 

“Wouldn’t object to some dinner as well if you’re offering,” Elizabet says. 

“I will arrange all of that. So, get up to anything fun and exciting?” 

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” She responds. 

“In fact, I would. Captain, same question.” 

“None of your business,” Vasco shoots back. 

Constantin departs several minutes later and she looks over at him. “You’re injured; you could have just said no.” 

“So could you,” he points out, “figure things between us are private. No one needs to know what we are - or aren’t doing. It’s easy enough to be overheard so we don’t need to start announcing it as well.” 

Her intoxicated mind decides now is a good time to get emotional. “I love you. Fuck, Vasco, do I love you. I know I’m drunk and not nearly as... clear as I normally am. I’m rambling. This probably isn’t sweet or romantic but I’m so damn in love with you. The sort of love I didn’t think was real until I met you.” 

“Come here,” he says, somewhat roughly. She slides over and rests her head on his shoulder. “I love you too. I’m actually... happy right now, despite my inner turmoil. I need to know who I am; it’s become an obsession but you are my family now. And that lessens the ache.”


	6. A Smart Mouth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things don’t go as planned for Elizabet and Vasco.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: anxiety, slut shaming and references to past abuse.

“I want to stay with you,” Elizabet whispers, kissing his chest as they lie in his bed. It’s their last night at sea. “I’ll come with you to speak to the admiral and volunteer myself.” 

Vasco smiles widely at the proclamation. “Will you tell your brother? Or does he already know?” 

She shakes her head. “Not until I’ve been accepted. Or not until I’ve been tattooed if I can get away with it. Were I to tell him now I fear he’d tie me to our cargo and drag me away.” 

He can tell she’s not kidding and he finds it deeply concerning. “I wouldn’t let him. You are free and clear to make your own decisions.” 

“I’ve always been the family embarrassment anyway; might as well go out with a bit of an explosion,” she says. “They’ll probably make up some death for me to kill the rumours that Lady De Sardet ran off to join the Nauts.” 

Nobility is a strange thing. He finds the games tiresome and he doesn’t even have to play them. Not the way Elizabet does. 

“Ellie! We need to go!” Loïc De Sardet hollers the next day after they’ve made port. “Come take your restorative; Constantin and I had to, it wouldn’t be fair if you missed out!” 

She’s got her arms wrapped around Vasco. A goodbye to anyone else’s eyes, but for the two of them it’s nothing more than a hug. “Come, I’ll bring you to the admiral,” he says, taking her hand. 

Admiral Cabral looks on curiously as he brings Elizabet to her. “Admiral Cabral, may I present, Lady Elizabet De Sardet.” She extends her hand and the admiral shakes it. 

“I’ve heard a great deal about you. It is good to meet you.” 

“And good to meet you as well, Admiral.” 

The admiral turns to him. “I need to speak with you privately.” 

Elizabet smiles at him. “I’ll wait right here, Vasco.” 

“Ellie, come on!” He hears her brother call for her. 

“Just go on without me!” She calls back. 

“You and the legate’s sister appear to get along well,” the admiral says. 

“She is a good woman. And I’d like to speak with you about her.”

But before he can launch into his appeal to bring Elizabet on as a doctor, the admiral launches into a speech of her own. “I’m laying you off. Follow the legate and offer him any assistance he might need.” 

His eyes go wide. “Why? What did I do? Is it because Elizabet is my lover? Did her brother complain about our relationship? Admiral, she’s an adult capable of -“ 

“She has nothing to do with it,” the admiral interrupts before softening. “You’re bitter. You have been for years now. That makes you a liability, even if you are the best sailor of your generation. Take some time away. Figure out what you truly want. And while you do, you’ll be a representative of our people.” 

“It’s not just me you’re affecting,” he says. “Please, don’t do this. Let me leave with her. I’m no politician; you know that as well as anyone.” 

He’s pretty much the opposite of a politician; he runs his mouth fairly unchecked, which has gotten him into trouble a number of times, especially in his younger years. 

“Vasco, my mind is made up. I... suspect her assistance might be of great value to you and to the island as a whole. Keep her close.” 

“On your orders, Admiral,” he spits out, storming away back to where Elizabet stands. 

She looks at him with concern. “The admiral laid me off.” Her eyes go wide. 

“Why? If Loïc complained, please allow me to clear things up. Constantin and I were most pleased with your services.” 

“That has nothing to do with it, I assure you. The admiral told me to follow your brother and ‘give him any assistance he might need’. So I’m stuck here. But if you wanted to join...” 

Elizabet takes his hand. “Not yet. My place is with you. I’m used to a life amongst nobility; I can endure awhile longer. It will be easier, at least, having my love with me,” she says, her words ringing hollow despite the optimism she appears to be trying to show. 

“I might be out in the field with your brother frequently,” he warns her. “I’m unsure what he will want from me.” 

The idea of following her brother around is actually sickening. Why does the admiral think this is a good idea? Why would she take his ship and crew away from him? 

They show up at the apartment and Loïc looks at Vasco with open disdain. “His kind does not belong here, Ellie.” 

“Well, apparently I do, because the admiral ordered me to give you any assistance you might need. Congratulations, you’ve earned the service of a Naut,” he says sarcastically. 

Loïc looks unhappy with this development. “You can get a room at the tavern, then.” 

“Absolutely not!” Elizabet says, standing between him and Loïc. “He is my lover and he shall sleep in my quarters with me.” 

The other man rolls his eyes. “Do you have any idea how much gossip there will be? The help talks! A noble sleeping with a Naut in the apartment above the embassy? Do you want to cause a scandal?” 

“They already talk about me,” Elizabet says in a tone that breaks his heart. “I’d rather be happy than free of scandal. I love him and he will sleep at my side. And if you forbid it, then I will move to the tavern with him,” she says, crossing her arms. 

Elizabet has won the argument; he can tell by the frustration on De Sardet’s face. Because worse than a scandal about a lover is a scandal that the legate kicked his own sister out of his home. 

“Well, off to your quarters, then. And keep it down; I don’t need to hear the two of you bedding each other like I did on the ship.” 

He should leave it alone. Accept their win. But he just got laid off, he’s angry and seeing him shame Elizabet is just too much.

“Does it get you off, then? Listening to me fuck your family? I know how you like to -“ 

“Vasco! Enough!” Elizabet says, before he can finish. 

De Sardet laughs in response to his chastisement. “Go on, get upstairs then like a good little Naut.” 

He opens his mouth but Elizabet takes his hand and starts to lead him upstairs. “Don’t,” she whispers harshly in his ear. 

Elizabet sits on the bed and looks at the floor once they’re inside what is to be their room. It’s massive, with its own privy, a bath, and a bed far larger than any he’s ever seen. The room is red, with gold furnishings throughout. 

If he touches anything he fears he’d ruin it. She pats the bed, wordlessly inviting him to sit. 

“My brother is a dangerous man,” she says quietly once he is beside her. She takes his hand, and rubs circles into it. “He can make someone disappear with a whisper to the right people. A skill he learned from our uncle.” 

“I’m not afraid of him; he’s a rich, spoiled asshole.” Briefly he feels guilty for openly insulting her brother, but he cannot bring himself to be anything less than honest. Not after being laid off and ordered to be at his beck and call. 

“You should be,” she says emphatically. “I’m afraid of him. Both him and my uncle. They’re the only people in this world I fear.” 

Afraid of her own brother? He’d seen her fear on the ship but to hear her confirmation is uncomfortable. The very thought of it... “Why do you fear him so?” 

“It doesn’t matter,” she says quickly. “When him and Constantin fell in love, things were bad for my cousin. Adrien was awful to him. Deeply, deeply abusive because Constantin was not the son he wanted. Constantin never will be the son he wants. To protect Constantin, Loïc offered himself up to my uncle. Learned from him... became the son Adrien always wanted. Cold. Calculating. Cruel. I have no doubt Adrien is aware that Constantin and Loïc are lovers. He’s using it; I’m shit at politics and even I can see that. Loïc will be the brains behind the throne. That way... Adrien’s influence extends beyond his death.” 

“Shit.” 

“He was once a nice boy. He sewed. Had Mother buy shirts for Kurt when he saw his were old and in poor condition. But everything he once was is long gone.” Elizabet squeezes his hand and looks at him with near desperation. “I know you don’t like him. You don’t have to like him. But don’t provoke him, Love. Please. The things I fear he’d do to you...” 

Holding his tongue has never been something he’s been good at. Frankly his skill is the only reason he hasn’t gotten himself in more trouble these last few years when he’s opted to mouth off to his superiors. “While I doubt I’ll be able to do so all the time, I’ll try. I promise.” 

“I will never be ashamed of loving you. Just so you know. And, I will make love to you in this bed, proudly and with great enthusiasm,” she says with a lewd grin. 

He’s hardly in the mood for flirtatious banter. Not after having his life taken from him so suddenly. 

“Our plan... I’m sorry you’re stuck here. She said I’m bitter and a liability. I don’t know what our future holds now,” his throat tightens and his eyes burn. “I don’t know if I’ll ever return to sea or if I’m stuck here. I’m angry. But I’m also lost. I don’t know what to do.” 

Never has he been prone to anxiety the way Elizabet is. But he’s anxious now; so horribly anxious. He’s shaking like a leaf. 

Elizabet notices and wraps her arms around his waist. 

“I do.” He turns his head and looks at her, not understanding how she can know with such certainty. “We’ll be together. For the rest of our lives. Where that is may be up in the air but I’ll be with you.” 

Four months. They’ve known one another four months yet he knows she’s right. His place is by her side for the rest of their lives. Never did he think he would fall so deeply in love with another as quickly as he has. 

“Aye, Tempest, you are right. I’ve never spent much time on land before. You’ll find plenty of things to tease me for.” He’s with his partner. For now, he tries to accept that this is enough. That, amidst all of the pain, loss and confusion, there’s one thing right in this world. 

“You’ll discover a whole new world. We both will; this land is new to me too.” 

When was the last time he fell asleep on land? It’s been a few years; not since his promotion to captain at the very least. Normally while on shore leave he sleeps in his quarters. 

The stillness is unpleasant. He hadn’t realized just how much he needs the rocking of the sea to sleep. A realization that makes him terribly uncomfortable. He’s not an infant; he shouldn’t need to be rocked to fall asleep! 

Elizabet has an arm around his waist and is holding him tightly against her chest. She’s sleeping and he fears waking her with his torment. Carefully, he slips out of bed, pulls on a pair of breeches and makes his way downstairs to the sitting room. 

It’s dark and he’s alone. With no one to see him, he weeps; his heart aching with the despair of losing his home and livelihood. 

He doesn’t know how long he sits there for. Long enough that he feels emptiness more than despair. A better thing, perhaps. 

While his nose is congested, he thinks he can smell smoke. And at this time of year, there is no need for fires overnight and he lit no candles or lanterns. Alarmed, he lifts his head and looks around, seeing the glowing embers of a cigarette across the room. “Wondered when you’d notice you weren’t alone,” De Sardet says. “I thought you’d be happy, you know; you get to continue defiling a woman far too good to even be in the same room as you.” 

He doesn’t mention that had he not been laid off, Elizabet would be a Naut by now. 

“I didn’t expect you to have the emotional intelligence to have any hope of understanding how I’m feeling,” he says. “I’d really rather be alone right now.” 

Instead of leaving, as any reasonable adult would, De Sardet sits down next to him, continuing to puff away at his cigarette.

His failure was assuming De Sardet would be reasonable. This is a man Elizabet told him she was afraid of, after all. 

“Thing is,” he inhales deeply, the end of his cigarette glowing more brightly. He exhales, blowing smoke in his face. “This is my apartment. I can do whatever I wish. And I would like to stay right here.” 

“Then I’ll go off elsewhere,” he growls, making to stand up. A hand around his wrist stops him and he near decks the man out of instinct.

“I’d like to talk to you,” De Sardet says. “Get to know you better. We are going to be fighting together, are we not?” 

“Depends entirely on what you want with me. I was, after all, ordered to follow you,” he spits out, unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice. 

“I know you can shoot a gun. Can you shoot a gun when you aren’t molesting my sister?” 

He rolls his eyes. “I’m a damn good shot. Additionally, I’m trained in the use of a rapier. Because I don’t wear heavy armour, I’m quick. If a fight needs to end quickly, call on me because I poison my blade to make sure the person I’m fighting goes down and stays there. Any more questions about my qualifications?” 

“Why poison? That’s terribly underhanded.”

“Because if it’s a fight for my life I’ll take every damn advantage I can get. Fighting fair is for fools. Dead fools.” 

“My sister deserves an honourable man.” 

“Your sister deserves whomever she chooses,” he shoots back. “She’s never once complained about my lack of honour.” 

He wants to leave. The anxiety he’s been fighting with is worse than ever and he feels trapped. Cornered by a man with the power to make him disappear. “It is late,” he starts. 

“And I am not finished speaking with you,” De Sardet says, interrupting. “How old are you?” 

“Same age as you. I was never told my birthday.” 

“What can you offer a woman?” 

Apparently this is an interrogation to determine whether he’s worthy enough of Elizabet. He already knows the end result: he isn’t. Not in this man’s eyes. “Love. Respect. Protection. Fidelity.”

That last one is absolutely a subtle dig at De Sardet’s partner; Elizabet told him that Constantin has had affairs with women over the years to keep attention off him and De Sardet. And that it is something De Sardet is not happy about. 

And it hit just as it was supposed to. “A faithful Naut. What a joke. How many others have you slept with since you began bedding my sister?” 

“Feels as if you’re projecting a bit, De Sardet. Is someone’s infidelity bothering you?” As soon as that comes out of his mouth he remembers that he told Elizabet he’d try not to provoke the other man. 

“I’m more concerned about my sister’s reputation,” De Sardet says in response. 

“Well, keep your mouth shut and all will be fine. She hates politics anyway,” he says. 

“Don’t think you can give me advice,” De Sardet says in a low voice. “I want to make something very clear: I don’t like you. I think you’re a scoundrel who is dragging Ellie down and as soon as you’ve finished using her body and spending her money, you’ll move on to your next unfortunate victim, leaving her spoiled for any other man.” 

He can’t help it: he laughs. De Sardet did not intend to be funny but the notion that by sleeping with her he is spoiling her for any others is ridiculous. 

“You think ruining a perfectly good woman is funny?” 

“I’d suggest reading your sister’s anatomy textbooks if you think I’m capable of ruining a woman,” he says coolly. “And, for what it’s worth: I don’t like you either. But I do as my admiral orders so I will help you with whatever you need of me.” 

“Your smart mouth is dangerous,” De Sardet says. 

“And so is everything else about me.” Standing up, he leaves the room and returns upstairs to his and Elizabet’s quarters, careful not to wake her as he slides back into bed, his heart racing; not from the anxiety of his life changing so drastically, but uneasiness following that confrontation. 

He sits up and breathes heavily, trying to ward it off but wakes her in the process. “Love? What’s the matter?” One hand rests on his back, the other on his chest and he forces himself to focus on the feeling of her hands on him. 

“Just some anxiety, is all. I’m sorry to have woken you.” 

He doesn’t tell her about his latest confrontation with her brother. It would only upset her. 

“Would you like to sit downstairs? Sometimes a change of scenery can be helpful.” 

“No. No, I’m fine here. I just need a few minutes.” And then, feeling somewhat childish, he makes a request. “I could use a distraction. Would you sing to me?” 

One of the caregivers on the island would sing him to sleep when he was little. Something he always liked. He tries to ignore the voice in his head telling him he shouldn’t need this; that he’s a grown man - a captain, no less. 

But is he still a captain? Admiral Cabral never said. 

Elizabet coaxes him into lying down, and curls up around him and begins singing softly. A beautiful, but terribly sad song about loneliness and broken dreams. By now he knows she writes her own songs. 

“I hope to inspire something happier for you,” he says when she’s finished. 

“You already have. I just... don’t know the melody yet. Would you like to hear another?” 

“Yes,” he whispers. “You have the voice of a siren.” 

She giggles. “I would hope I’m not luring you to death and destruction.” 

“No. Never,” he says. 

He’s not sure how long she sings for, but when he wakes up the next morning, she’s still holding him. “Feeling any better?” She asks, kissing him between the shoulder blades. 

Not really. He’s still lost. Empty. “I...” he trails off, not wanting to burden her or make her worry. 

“Your life has changed drastically. You don’t need to be well. Not right now.” 

Vasco rolls over and looks at Elizabet. Her beautiful blue eyes. The bee stung lips with the little scar on her lower lip. She smiles at him; a warm, gentle smile. “A walk might be nice. To get my bearings and to work on getting my land legs.” 

Walking on a surface that doesn’t require him to constantly make tiny adjustments to remain balanced is... weird. 

“Then that is what we shall do today. Have you ever had coffee? There’s a coffee shop nearby and I’d like to stop in!” Elizabet’s excitement is almost contagious and he finds himself smiling, despite everything. 

“I have not. Shall we?” 

It’s hardly a shock when they make their way downstairs to find that De Sardet has gone to the palace. “Do you need to begin your duties as Constantin’s assistant today?” He asks her. 

Elizabet shakes her head as she gets her boots on. “Next week. A lot of this week will be spent getting unpacked and acclimated to life here.” 

The cafe is two streets down, firmly in the Silver District, where the richest in New Sérène live and work. Looking at the prices on the menu makes him uncomfortable. Very uncomfortable. Elizabet notices. “Coffee is imported, as you’re undoubtedly aware. Even with my family’s wealth, it was only something I had once in awhile. I’m paying today - don’t trouble yourself about the cost. Would you like to split a slice of cake?” 

“That sounds nice.” They haven’t eaten breakfast, after all, and he supposes a slice of cake is as good a breakfast as any. He tries not to feel self-conscious about his station compared to Elizabet’s. 

She wants to be here and she wants to take care of him. Such a thing is an act of love from her. There are so many things he can do for her and just because he’s not rich, not a _noble_ doesn’t make him any less worthy of her love...

“Would you teach me how to swim?” Elizabet’s voice interrupts the thoughts rushing through his mind. “I have never been very good and I’ve only really gone swimming in lakes or creeks.” She lowers her voice. “But if I’m to be a Naut, I should know how, shouldn’t I?” 

“You should,” he says. “It’s autumn here, but still early enough that the ocean shouldn’t be too cold. We could go today if you like. Though I’m unsure what nobles wear when swimming.

Elizabet shudders. “Dresses made of canvas. With puffed sleeves. Weights are sewn into the hem because my modesty is more important than not drowning.” 

He laughs. “We just strip down to our smalls. Women wear breast bands but if they prefer to go without, nobody gives them a second glance. I do not mean to offend but I will not take you into the water in a canvas dress because I’m trying to teach you to swim, not drown you.” 

Their coffee and cake arrives and Elizabet puts some milk and sugar into hers. Not quite knowing what to do, he follows her example. She takes a sip and looks pleased. “It’s very nice.” 

He takes a sip, unsure of what to expect. It smells rather nice but it’s... bitter. Horribly so. Elizabet must see the expression on his face because she starts to laugh. “I’m sorry, Vasco, I suppose I should have warned you. More milk and sugar might help... or a bite of cake,” she says, handing the fork to him. 

He accepts the fork and takes a bite. “That is pleasant,” he says. Rarely has he had chocolate; it’s just too expensive to be purchased as anything more than the rare indulgence while on shore leave. “Don’t think I’m meant to be a coffee drinker, though.” 

Elizabet gestures the proprietor over. “Do you have any tea? Bridge Alliance in particular.” The other woman nods. “Can you get my partner a pot of it, please?” 

His eyes go wide as he realizes that she just publicly referred to him as her partner. In the richest area of town. The proprietor briefly looks surprised but masks it and murmurs that she will return shortly. 

“As I’ve told you, I will never be ashamed of loving you,” Elizabet says. “And that means our relationship will never be kept a secret amongst the circles Loïc walks in.” 

It touches him. A part of him was unsure if she would stick to her guns once it was determined he would be stuck here on land working with De Sardet.

He notes she does not make reference to walking in the same circles. 

“So, back to swimming. I have no particular objection to swimming in my smalls, though it would have to be somewhere that would allow for discretion. Would you know a place?” 

“I would. We could go once we’re finished here?” 

“I’d like that. Let’s go right away; I fear if we stop in at the apartment Loïc will find some chore for me to do and today is reserved for you.” 

The woman arrives with his tea, dropping it off without another word. Elizabet takes his cup of coffee. “Can’t let such a lovely drink go to waste,” she says, winking at him. 

“It is all yours, Tempest.” 

There’s something so beautiful about seeing her sip a cup of coffee with a carefree smile on her face. It brightens his mood considerably. 

After they finish, he walks with her, hand-in-hand to a quiet cove outside of the city. “The water will be calm here and you’ll be shielded from prying eyes. I’ve only ever seen other Nauts here,” he says. 

He removes his coat and strips down to his smalls and watches as Elizabet does the same, albeit more slowly and with a slight hesitation that reveals she’s a little nervous. “I’ve never been this unclothed outside before,” she says. 

“You mean to say you’ve never gone for a dip in the water with a scoundrel of a Naut who will threaten your virtue and good name?” 

Admittedly a comment made mostly for his own amusement, given that he has not told her of his late night confrontation with De Sardet. But she laughs all the same. 

“Any virtue I had was lost long ago. Though some would argue it was taken by a Naut.”

He raises his eyebrow as he extends his hand. She takes it and he walks with her into the water. “Am I allowed to know what happened?” 

“When I was 18, I was promised to a very wealthy nobleman in Sérène. He was in his 50s with a reputation for cruelty. I begged Uncle Adrien to call it off. Mother asked him to as well. Uncle Adrien refused. So I had to destroy my own prospects to protect my freedom.” 

They’ve stopped walking and are standing in waist deep water. Elizabet speaks calmly; the way she often does when he tells stories that break his heart. As if long ago she accepted a life free of satisfaction and joy. 

“I went with Kurt to the Coin Tavern and met a Naut. I’d arranged to meet my intended, who walked in on me losing my virginity to the Naut I’d met. He reacted as you’d expect and that ended the engagement. After the fact I sent a gold pocket watch and compass to the port; both a thank you and an apology to the man who ended up saving my life. Mother told me it was unlikely I’d ever marry and that was fine with me. I decided that I’d rather be alone than lonely in an unhappy marriage.” 

“Oh Elizabet...” he wraps his arms around her and holds her tightly. “I’m sorry. To have to go to such lengths to avoid marrying someone you did not wish to marry...” 

“It’s fine,” she says before amending her words. “Well, it isn’t. But it was a long time ago. One day I’ll be able to be the person I want to be. That makes the pain worth it.” She gives him a kiss on the cheek. “So, shall I embarrass myself and then you can determine for yourself whether I am hopeless or not?” 

“Nobody is hopeless at swimming, Elizabet. But go ahead.” 

Elizabet’s movements in the water are inefficient and he can tell she would tire herself out quickly if required to swim for a long period of time. He stops her and demonstrates how to move, his body cutting through the water with ease. “Another thing I’ll need to show you is how to tread water properly. A potentially life saving skill should one fall overboard,” he says. 

Seeing an adult with such rudimentary skills in the water is a bit of a shock, he must admit. All Nauts are taught how to swim and Sea Born and young Sea Given start learning as soon as they know how to walk. He has no memory of a time when he _didn’t_ know how to swim. 

By the end of the lesson she’s improved slightly. “Think we’ll need to do this regularly. You’ll become a stronger swimmer and gain some confidence in the water. We’ve got another month or so before it’ll be too cold to swim in the sea. Then I suppose we’ll need to wait until it warms up a bit,” he says as they’re getting dressed. 

They don’t have a towel and pulling breeches up soaking wet legs is unpleasant. Not to mention sliding one’s sand-covered feet into boots. “Shall we bring a towel next time?” She asks. 

“Definitely.” 

“There’s another thing I forgot to consider,” Elizabet says. He looks over at her and sees her unbraiding her hair. “My hair. It’s wet.” 

Hair does tend to get wet while swimming. 

“I don’t care but... some might,” she says. And he realizes who she’s speaking of. 

With luck, her brother will still be at the palace when they get back to the apartment and Elizabet will be able to get into the tub immediately. 

Once, she told him that being out in public with her hair down would be seen as inappropriate. He thought it ridiculous. But as they make their way back, he notices the stares. Stares that are only made worse by the fact that she’s hanging off the arm of a Naut. But Elizabet stands tall and says nothing about the judging eyes so he follows her lead and says nothing as well. 

Of course De Sardet is home. Worse, he has just gotten home and is in the sitting room. “Why is your hair down? And wet, Ellie?” 

“I went swimming,” she says, speaking casually, as if nobility always go out of town and swim in their smalls. 

“In what?” 

“Swim clothes,” Elizabet says and he snorts, stifling a laugh. She’s technically correct; not that De Sardet would care. 

“You could have been seen,” De Sardet hisses. “What’s gotten into you? Parading your body around like a common slut?” 

He hates hearing Elizabet being spoken to like this but it’s not for him to intervene. Not yet, anyway. So he takes her hand and squeezes it, wordlessly letting her know that he is here, should she need him to step in. 

“I had not realized I could make money by taking my clothes off and swimming. Evidently I missed out on the chance to make some coin today,” she says, smirking at her brother. “Ah well, next time I suppose.” 

“There won’t be a next time.” 

“Loïc De Sardet, unless you intend to lock me away, you have no say in what I do with my body. That includes my romantic partners as well as my choice of hobbies,” Elizabet says firmly. 

“Don’t give me ideas, Ellie.” 

“Such love in this room. Threatening to lock your twin sister up. Really feeling the affection today. We’re going up to our quarters now. Oh, and I’m going to take a bath. Nude. Is that allowed, dear brother? Or shall I put my swim clothes on?” 

“I wouldn’t actually lock you up,” De Sardet mutters. “No need to get smart with me.” 

Saying no more, Elizabet leads him up the stairs and into their quarters, closing the door behind them. “So, shall we plan lesson number two for the day after tomorrow?” She asks brightly, as if the confrontation just a moment ago never happened. 

He smiles at her, grateful to have a task to keep him at least somewhat occupied so he isn’t constantly dwelling on his current... situation. “The day after tomorrow. And this time we’ll bring towels.”


	7. The Arena

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elizabet and Loïc save a life in the Coin Arena.

“Listen, if you and your sister want to jump in and help the man, you’re free to do so. But we cannot just let him go.” 

Jumping into the Coin Arena. What an idea that is. There’s something so... distasteful about it. Constantin quite enjoys it and he’s gone to humour his darling but it’s never been his style. 

“We can’t let a man die, Loïc,” Elizabet says with an urgency in her voice that is rather irritating and definitely uncalled for in this instance. It’s not as if this person is important. 

“He did break our laws. I don’t really want to degrade myself by engaging in such ludicrous activities. It’s all so barbaric.”

“Really? The man who tried to have two accused heretics sent to the pyre is going to speak about barbarism?” Ellie snaps. “I’m going in. I won’t let him die.” 

“I’ll come as well,” the Naut says immediately. 

“No. The agreement was that it would be the De Sardet siblings. Not a Naut,” the arena master says. 

“Apparently the arena master here is afraid of letting a Naut into the ring. Worried I’ll kick your champion’s ass?” 

“Vasco,” he hears Ellie chide the Naut under her breath and he quiets immediately. 

She has the Naut wrapped around her little finger. Were he actually worthy of her it would be cute. 

At least he’s being quiet. A silent Naut is better than one run who runs his mouth. 

Ellie jumps in right away as the Arena Master announces the fight. He considers for a moment. If he goes in, he’s degrading himself. But he can also claim credit for saving this hunter. It might be a good way to earn a favour, not only from this merchant and his cousin, but from the _Mal_ of their clan. 

The fight begins. Ellie puts one of the beasts in stasis, opting to go after the champion while the hunter fights the other creature. 

He looks over at the Naut, who is watching the fight; worry in his eyes, half-leaning into the arena already, as if to jump in if deemed necessary. 

That’s another thing to consider. If he goes in there, he’s protecting Ellie. It will drive the Naut mad to know that someone else other than him had to fight her battles for her. “Well, not letting Ellie claim this one to herself,” he says, leaping over the wall and landing smoothly in the arena. Raising his sword high, he charges at the man. “Deal with the creatures,” he yells to his sister, who immediately disengages. Out of the corner of his eye he sees a beast fall and hears the sound of the hunter fighting the other. 

This champion is good, he’ll give him that. Loïc trips him and the man’s ankle breaks with a loud crack. He kicks his sword away. “I surrender,” the man whimpers. 

Another thing about the Coin Arena that drives him mad. Surrendering. Cowardice. “Take your death properly,” he says, driving his sword through the champion’s heart. 

Gasps are heard from the audience, followed by a roar of... outrage? He walks over to Ellie, who is healing the hunter. “Apparently they don’t like that I won,” he says smugly. 

“These fights aren’t to the death; they’re to surrender,” she says in a low, angry tone. “You just killed someone they respect.” 

“And now they know not to play around with me,” he says. 

“All you’ve done is put a target on your back, Loïc. Just once, could you play by someone else’s rules instead of your own?” 

He walks away and climbs out of the ring. Ellie helps the Native man, who appears to have some sort of leg injury and has an arm bracing his ribs. 

“Crowd is really worked up,” the Arena Master says. “Controversy is good for business but you might want to leave, Excellency.” 

“The hunter comes with me. Thank you for indulging me,” Loïc says, walking out of the arena, not bothering to look back to see if everyone else is following. 

Ellie managed to get some practice with her healing magic. Not that she’s particularly pleased about the opportunity; she’s glaring daggers at him when he looks over to see that her and the Naut are helping the Native man walk. 

It ends up working out well, in the end; the merchant is grateful and has suggested he go to Vignamri to speak to the clan _Mal_ , Ullan, who apparently wants to be friends with the _renaigse_. 

“And all I had to do was get some blood on my doublet,” he says as they’re walking back to the apartment. 

“On your hands too,” the Naut mutters sourly. 

“Pardon me? Am I sensing some resentment from the man who doesn’t have a name that made him worthy of competing today?” 

“None,” the Naut responds. “I resent you for many other reasons.” 

“How did it feel, Naut; to know that you couldn’t do anything to protect the rich girl you’re soiling by association? To know it had to be me who saved her?” 

“Would you two please just not talk to one another?” Ellie cries. Apparently watching a man die has made her a little grumpy. 

“I respect her courage. Her desire to do the right thing. She went in there to save that man. You went in there to satisfy your damned ego. I’m thankful she wasn’t in there alone. But I can recognize that it was a jackass who was watching her back.” 

They’re just outside the embassy now; he unlocks the door and they make their way into the apartment. Ellie turns to look at the Naut. “Love, come rest with me before dinner?” 

“I’ll be right there, Tempest. Go and wash up,” the Naut says, in a tone far more pleasant than it was while speaking to him a moment earlier. Ellie hesitates for a moment but goes upstairs and the Naut turns and looks at him. 

“Remember, Naut; it was me who saved her today. Not you. How could a man like you ever hope to keep her safe? And even if you tried, you have no honour. Killing people with poison? Pathetic.” 

Instead of looking angry, the Naut looks amused. “Yes, as we’ve previously discussed, I think fighting honourably is for fools, but at least I respect a surrender. You murdered that man, De Sardet. This may be your ship but I can tell you that you’re doing a shit job navigating.” 

Murdering a man in a Coin Arena. His words make him laugh. “I wonder, what does it feel like to know you were sold to the Nauts by noble parents who didn’t want you and then cast out by the Nauts themselves?” 

This hits the nerve he was looking for. He sees pain in the man’s eyes and he sputters, trying to find a comeback. When he doesn’t find one that seems to satisfy him, the Naut goes upstairs without another word. 

“Kurt!” He calls out and the man enters the room. 

“You called, Sir?” 

“I’ve decided to dine with the governor tonight and spend the evening reviewing our upcoming social engagements. I will not be back until tomorrow. Please inform my sister once the Naut has finished defiling her.” 

Kurt’s stern face grows ever sterner; apparently the _Coin Guard_ disapproves of his bluntness. “I will let your sister know where you are when I see her. Have a good night.” 

Constantin is going to be so envious when he tells him he fought in an actual Coin Arena fight. He can’t wait to share the story with his darling. 

***

“Oh, my lucky star, I can hardly believe it! Going up against a champion and frothing beasts, all in the service of saving an innocent man from slaughter!” Constantin sighs. “It’s so utterly romantic and I wish I could have seen it.” 

As expected, Constantin loves it. “Darling, it has also given me an opportunity to make an alliance with the village of Vignamri. This is an excellent opportunity for the two of us.” 

Constantin has hardly touched his meal. They’re dining privately in his quarters. “Not enjoying the food?” 

“Oh, my stomach is a bit off. Just getting used to all this new food. No need to worry.” 

But he does worry. “Should I send for Ellie? You know she has that strange spell that allows her to look inside a human body. She would be able to tell you what’s wrong.” 

Constantin waves his hand dismissively. “You know how she worries. Don’t say a word to her. I’ll be back to normal by morning.” 

“At least eat some bread? That’ll be easier on your stomach. I can speak to your cook and have some broth brought up...” 

“You sound just like your sister right now. You give her such a hard time about her anxiety and it is you who is mother-henning me,” Constantin says with an edge of annoyance in his voice. 

His face falls. “I’m sorry. Given Mother’s illness, I cannot help but worry. I love you so and I could not stand the thought...” he clenches his fist, warding off the emotions building within him. He cannot show how he truly feels. 

But Constantin always knows. “I’ll eat some bread. It’s not the malichor; don’t be absurd,” he says with a laugh. “We were all tested before we departed. You know that.” 

He watches as Constantin makes his way through two slices of bread and is relieved when he smoothes a helping of jam onto one of them. “So, what did Elizabet think when you failed to show the champion mercy?” 

“She was angry. Far as I’m concerned, you raise a blade against another in an arena and it’s a fight to the death. I’d not have surrendered and I won’t accept the cowardice of another.” 

“You sound like Father right now,” Constantin observes. “Had I taken a wound I wouldn’t have accepted a surrender from my opponent but otherwise, who cares? It’s the champion who must live with the loss; it’s still a win for you.”

“I learned from the best,” he says dryly. 

Constantin scoffs. “You need not pretend any longer; we aren’t in Sérène and you can be your own man once more.” 

There’s an unsettling pit in his stomach when he realizes that he’s not pretending. That he truly believes the things he’s saying. If his darling does not approve of his decisions... of the man he grew up to be...“Everything I do, I do for you. For us,” he whispers. 

Constantin stands up and motions for him to do so as well. His arms are around him and he clings to Constantin. “I know. And I so appreciate everything you do for us. Every sacrifice you’ve ever made. You take care of us. I trust you to do what is best in your role.” 

“Truly?” 

“I do. You always were the clever one in politics. While Elizabet is my assistant, it is your counsel that I appreciate.”

“One day you will be the prince and I will be your husband. I won’t be stuck demeaning myself by associating with Nauts or traveling all over. We won’t be apart - ever.” 

“There’s the dreamer I fell in love with,” Constantin says with a chuckle. “I miss that part of you, you know.” 

“It’s still there,” he insists, “but the only dreams worth having are the ones where I am with you. Forever.” 

***

De Sardet’s words hurt, much as he hates to admit it. But it’s a reminder that his family gave him away and now the Nauts don’t even want him at sea. What is he? Is he a noble? A Naut? Something else? 

He lies in bed while he waits for Elizabet to finish in the bath. While he does, he thinks of the pain this has caused her. For a few weeks she thought her life as a noble would soon end. But she’s stuck here, in a world that makes her so unhappy. 

Because of him. “She chose me,” he reminds himself, but it’s hardly a comfort. 

“Vasco?” The sound of Elizabet’s voice pulls him from his thoughts. Her hair is dripping wet and hanging loose and she’s wrapped in a towel but otherwise unclothed. 

He pats the bed. “Lie down for a bit?” She does, pulling off the towel and settling at his side. 

“You’re hurting.” A statement, not a question. 

“Just thinking about who I am. I can hardly call myself a Naut right now; I have no ship and was sent off for reasons Admiral Cabral declined to elaborate on, save to say that I’m bitter and a liability. But I’m no noble either. I don’t even know who gave me away,” he says, tone laced with frustration. 

His partner is quiet for a long moment, fiddling with a button on his shirt. “What do you know about yourself?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean, who you are as a person. Your values. Your character. That hasn’t been taken from you. So what do you know?” 

“Well, I suppose I don’t tend to be good at tolerating the bullshit of idiots. Have a mouth that’s occasionally too smart for my own good. I’m damn good at sailing, a great shot and if needed I can kill a man before he even unsheathes his sword. I try my best to be a fair leader, even if I am a hardass and if anyone is dumb enough to mess with my crew, they deal with me. And I love you, more than I ever thought I could love another.” 

Elizabet smiles at him. “Would it help to focus on that? At least until you decide to seek out your family - if that is indeed a decision you make?” 

It’s a bit of a comfort, he supposes, to know he’s more than what the world sees him to be. “For now, perhaps it will be,” he says. 

“Good. So, we haven’t spoken about any particular experiences on land you’d like to have. Do any come to mind?” 

“Well, your brother has told me I’ll be going with him to San Matheus so I suppose I’ll get to traipse through the woods. Never done that before. Guess that means I’ll get to step in shit other than that of a horse or dog.” 

Elizabet laughs. “It’s not so bad. Watch for holes - gophers dig them and if you step in one you can sprain an ankle. And branches. You can trip over one and hurt yourself...” she fusses. 

That she’s worrying about gopher holes and branches when he’s going to be fending off wild beasts and bandits is extremely endearing. 

“You make it sound as if I’ll be returning home to you on a stretcher, both ankles sprained. I’ve spent my life on a ship; stepping over rope is similar to stepping over branches, Tempest.” He turns serious. “I’m more worried about the inquisitors than anything.” 

“They don’t like Nauts.” 

“I’m a heretic to them. And you know what they do to heretics.” 

Elizabet looks panicked and she sits up, gripping his arm. “I hadn’t considered that and that was thoughtless of me; I’m sorry. I must ask Constantin for permission to accompany you. You’ll be in danger otherwise!” 

Vasco shakes his head. “Doubt your brother will give permission for you to join us. So long as I stay out of their way and do not wander the city without your brother, it will be fine, I’m sure.”

He can tell she’s not convinced. “Wagons delivering letters leave twice a day; once in the morning and once at night. It takes a day or so for them to arrive in New Sérène but if something happens, or you’re at all concerned, please write me a letter. While I loathe horseback riding, if I rent a horse, I can ride hard and get to the city in under a day.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind, but I’m sure nothing will happen.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Norathar did such a fantastic job expanding on this quest in “Of Love and Honor” that it made me consider how everything went down in the twin AU-verse.


	8. San Matheus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team meets Siora and Loïc takes her and Vasco on a dangerous mission.

Elizabet walks with him to the palace to meet with her brother, who is waiting outside, arguing with a young Native woman. 

“Name your concerns and I will bring them to Governor d’Orsay. I am the legate of the Congregation of Merchants; that is my job.” 

“Loïc, who is this?” 

The woman turns to her. “I am Siora; daughter of Bladnid, daughter of Meb. I am here on behalf of my mother; the _Mal_ of our clan.”

“That makes you a princess, then! You must come with us at once,” she says, escorting Siora into the palace as De Sardet looks on, irritated. An irritation that continues as Siora explains her concerns to Constantin, who attempts to flirt with her in De Sardet’s presence. 

“Constantin, I believe we should move on to other matters,” De Sardet says firmly. 

“Why? I think it would be lovely to have a private dinner with our new friend here so I can get to know her better.” 

Siora looks unimpressed with the governor’s attempts at flirting. 

It’s all rather amusing, and he has to cough to disguise a laugh when he sees the angry look on De Sardet’s face and his petulant glares aimed at Siora; as if she chose to be obnoxiously propositioned by the governor. Elizabet notices and gives him a look, and he focuses straight ahead at a wall to avoid further fits of mirth at her brother’s expense. 

“There is much to be discussed, Constantin,” De Sardet says, slowly and far too carefully. 

“I need to remain to speak with the governor in private, De Sardet says, dismissing them all. 

“Trouble in paradise, I see,” he whispers to himself and his amusement only grows as he hears Kurt snicker behind him. 

Surprisingly De Sardet does not spend the night at the palace and is in a foul mood upon his return to the apartment. He calls a meeting of the team in the sitting room. 

“I could use another person on the road to San Matheus. Join my team and then we will look into your concerns,” Loïc tells Siora, who frowns. 

When Siora speaks there’s a desperate edge in her voice. “The battle is imminent. We must go at once!” 

“Vasco and I can go with Siora. It is not safe for either of them in San Matheus anyway,” Elizabet suggests. “You and Kurt will manage well.” 

Her brother shakes his head. “Not safe with just the two of us on the road. I need the skills of someone who knows the island. If you want the assistance of my people, you must offer yours in return, Siora.” 

“I will go,” Siora says, slumping her shoulders and sounding defeated. 

“At least allow me to join you. To keep them safe.” 

“I will not allow you to shirk your duties to our cousin,” De Sardet says sharply and he sees Elizabet wince and curl in on herself. 

“Please keep Vasco safe, then. Please.”

De Sardet smirks. “I won’t kill him.” 

Careful words. He notes that he says nothing about protecting him should the inquisitors feel the need to hold a bonfire. 

He needs to be strong for her. So he plasters on a false smile and takes her hand. “It will be fine. You’ve warned me about gopher holes so what’s the worst that could happen?” 

***

“I’ll bring Vasco and Siora to the inquisitor’s home and we’ll search for more information,” De Sardet says as they stand over the body of the dead inquisitor. 

A chill goes down his spine. Him and Siora are the absolute worst choices for this mission. If they’re caught... 

It’s useless but he tries appealing to De Sardet. “I would ask that you bring Petrus and Kurt. If the three of you are caught, it’s a diplomatic incident. If Siora and I are caught, the two of us will be burned as heretics.” He turns and looks at Siora who is sheet white and shaking. 

He hates this city. Hates it. Being greeted with the burning of a guardian and the murder of a boy does not tend to endear a place to him. The sooner they leave, the better. 

“Vasco is correct, my child. That would be the better strategy,” Petrus says. 

He should have let Petrus speak first. Now that he has, all De Sardet will do is dig his heels in because he loathes him. 

“Well, don’t get caught,” is De Sardet’s response. 

Panic will not help. To survive this, his mind must be clear. So he prepares as he would for any other task: he checks over his pistol, ensures he has a supply of bullets and gunpowder, and refills the phials of poison he keeps on hand - just in case. 

He also hands Siora a haze potion and keeps one for himself. “In case we need to disappear and flee,” he tells her. 

That Elizabet is a skilled alchemist has many benefits; access to potions that would otherwise be very pricey is one of them. 

“If I’m caught here they’ll burn me,” Siora whispers to Vasco once they’re inside the house. 

As will he. But that won’t comfort her. “I won’t let that happen. We’ll fight back against anything thrown at us if we are unable to run. And Elizabet will step in before allowing anything to happen. I sent a letter this morning letting her know what is happening, just in case.” 

“She will save me too?” Siora’s voice is small. She doesn’t know Elizabet well and he understands her doubt, given the sort of person Loïc De Sardet is. 

“Absolutely. Elizabet is kind and good,” he lowers his voice, “nothing at all like her jackass of a brother. Only reason she’s not legate is she lacks skill and interest in the area of politics. Her brother was trained by their uncle personally, which is how he became... this.” 

On the surface he sounds calm and reassuring but in reality he’s terrified. He sent the letter to Elizabet to provide them with at least a little protection but if they decide to burn them immediately... there’s nothing she could do except maybe send a bullet their way to end their suffering if she arrived in time to watch. 

One day for the letter to arrive by wagon. He told Elizabet to rush to San Matheus if she didn’t hear from him by the end of that evening. Eight hours by horse, assuming she can even get her hands on one... at minimum it would be a day and a half until she can make it here to negotiate their release. How quickly would the inquisitors burn them? 

Do they keep a warehouse full of dried wood on hand in case they decide someone needs burning? Or will it take a few days to gather the wood needed to make an example of him? “Fuck,” he curses under his breath. 

He’s never been this afraid before. Not even sailing through that hurricane. When the inquisitors approach them outside the home they just broke into his heart nearly stops before racing so hard he feels as if he cannot breathe. Siora reaches for his hand and he grasps it, not knowing what else to do. If it looks like they’re to be arrested, maybe fighting to the death is better than hoping Elizabet arrives in time to save them. Even if it means never seeing her again. 

Luckily he doesn’t have to make that decision. De Sardet smoothly talks the three of them out of trouble and him and Siora are just barely able to mask their terror as they make their way back to the apartment. When they return, he mutters that he’ll be in his room writing a letter. 

“To whom?” De Sardet asks. 

He looks at the man incredulously. “My lover?” He refers to Elizabet as his lover specifically because it annoys the shit out of De Sardet, who can’t stand that his sister is in love with a Naut. 

De Sardet sighs. “You know it will just worry her,” he says, as if that’s not something he’s acutely aware of. 

“Do you think I _want_ to worry her?” He asks, voice low and dangerous. “I _had_ to send a letter to her this morning letting her know precisely what was going on because if Siora and I got captured I didn’t trust you to rescue us. If I don’t send her a letter this evening, she’ll have rented a horse and be on a full gallop to San Matheus by tomorrow night, so if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go write a letter to my lover.” 

“She’s my sister!” De Sardet repeats petulantly as Vasco walks away. 

He shouldn’t take the bait. But he always does. “And my lover!” He says back to the man.

_My Tempest,_

_As promised in my letter this morning, I’m writing to let you know that we are safe. The plan is to leave to return to New Sérène the day after tomorrow._

_I will find you as soon as I return because the very idea of another moment without your touch is near unbearable._

_It frightened me, what we did. But thinking of you gave me strength._

_I love you._

_Vasco_

That night he goes out into the garden to try to calm his nerves. The walls of his quarters are too tight and he’s panicked; restless. 

Siora is outside, smoking a pipe that smells unlike any tobacco he’s ever smelled. She offers it to him. “I don’t smoke,” he says. 

“It is not the herb _renaigse_ smoke. It will relax you.”

Reaching over he accepts the offered pipe. Inhaling, he coughs immediately and Siora laughs, patting him on the back. “That happens to everyone the first time,” she says. “Try again.” 

Eventually he figures it out and they silently pass the pipe back and forth. As promised, the tight grip his nerves had on him eases and he feels relaxed. Strangely so. “This is interesting.”

“My people use it both as medicine and as recreation. As teenagers my sister and I would sit in the grass just outside our village and smoke it together. After today...” Siora trails off. 

“I know. Thank you. This helps a little.” 

“I don’t know if I can trust him to stop the battle between my people and the lions.” 

“You can trust Elizabet,” he says immediately. “She would help. While she’s not a legate, she can claim to act as her brother’s representative.” 

Any sense of passing time becomes skewed and minutes feel like hours. “Elizabet will be worried about you,” Siora says. 

“Yes, she will be. And for you as well.” 

“Why did he do that to us?” 

Vasco sighs. “Because he could. It was a show of power. If we don’t stand perfectly in line then he will make sure we die in the most heinous way possible. Want my advice? After we stop the battle, go home. Stay as far away from that man as possible.” 

“No,” Siora says with conviction. “I want to learn more about the _renaigse_. And to teach them about my people. _Màtir_ sent me on this mission and I will not leave.” 

Siora’s attitude is admirable in the face of everything that happened today. “I’d leave with Elizabet right now if my admiral allowed it,” he says in response. 

***

When they return to New Sérène several days later he can see that Elizabet has nearly worn a groove in the floor of the sitting room with her pacing. She hardly waits for him to get through the door before jumping into his arms. “I love you. I’m so sorry,” she whispers. 

“Why are you apologizing?” he whispers in her ear before kissing her cheek. 

“Because he never will. Vasco, I was so scared. Even when I got your second letter I knew I wouldn’t feel better until you were back here.” 

“I’m sorry for worrying you.” 

She cups his face and kisses him. “Not your fault. Not at all.” 

Eventually she does let him go and walks towards her brother. He can feel her fury and the tension between them from across the room. The sound of Elizabet’s palm hitting Loïc’s cheek fills the room and there is an awkward silence as the two siblings glare at each other. 

“How dare you,” Elizabet seethes. “Willfully putting your colleagues in danger.” 

“You’re just mad that the Naut you’re fucking had to take a risk!” Loïc retorts, his cheek red from her blow, trying to step away from Elizabet only to be backed into a wall. 

“No! I’m mad that you did not take two minutes to think that Vasco and Siora were the _worst_ possible people to take on that mission! Why did you not take Petrus and Kurt? Had you three gotten caught it would have been nothing more than a scandal. Nobody would have been put to death.”

“I like your _minundhanem_ ,” Siora whispers.

He doesn’t know what that word translates to but he can understand the meaning of her words. He grins and nods. “She’s pretty great.” 

“Ellie, please...” 

“Mother would be disappointed. She didn’t raise us to treat our colleagues with such disdain. Explain yourself.” 

“I - I...” For once, Loïc De Sardet has no words. 

“Explain yourself!” She shouts, stepping closer to him. 

“I thought their skills were best suited to the task,” Loïc says, voice shaking as the tall man tries to make himself smaller than his petite sister. 

“Bullshit! You wanted to scare him. You wanted to scare the man I love. And if you got caught, you would have been happy, wouldn’t you? Because the person you see as such a fucking threat would go up in flames.” 

“I wouldn’t!” He cries as Elizabet’s arm winds up, ready to slap him again. “Please stop!” 

Elizabet grabs him by the collar and pushes him against the wall. “If you ever put my love in danger like that again, I will kill you. Understood?” 

Loïc only nods and when Elizabet releases him he runs off to his quarters, tripping on the stairs. Notably, Elizabet does not go to check on him and offer to tend to any injuries he may have obtained in the fall. She turns her attention to him and Siora. “Were either of you wounded during the mission?” They both shake their heads. “Please let me know if anything like this ever happens again. And refuse his orders if they do. Neither of you work for him, you work alongside him.” 

“Thank you for speaking to him,” Siora says. “That was nice of you.” 

“Not nice. Necessary. I do not tolerate such behaviour. I may not be anything more than the spare De Sardet child,” Vasco wishes she’d stop referring to herself as such; she has such value, “but I can demand that those around me are treated respectfully.” She turns to him. “Love, I told Constantin I would be taking a few days off. He doesn’t... really need an assistant so I’ve mostly been practicing my surgical skills on the animals I hunt just outside town. I’ve booked a room at an inn - I thought we could spend a few days together? Just the two of us?” 

He takes her hand. “A lovely idea. I’ll grab a change of clothes. Should I let your brother know?” 

She shakes her head. “I’ll tell Kurt. Loïc plans to go to Hikmet next and he can do so without you because you’ll be rather busy for a few days.” 

***

Elizabet is lying on top of him, her head on his chest and their bodies damp with perspiration from the exertion of their lovemaking. “That was good,” she near purrs. 

“Indeed,” he says. 

“I never thought I’d enjoy this. Sex, I mean. I’d given up on finding someone when I met you. And I’d given up on intimacy because I found more satisfaction on my own than I ever did with anyone else. I’m glad to have been wrong.” 

“You’ve got a lifetime of this ahead of you. Assuming you don’t send me on my way when you get bored of me,” he says. A joke but she lifts her head and looks at him very seriously. 

“I wouldn’t. I wish for a life by your side. There’s nothing I want more.” 

Had he not been laid off by Admiral Cabral they’d be at sea now. Something he still feels guilt for. But, it’s allowed him to figure one thing out. Something he’ll need her help with. And, the help of her brother... “I was wondering if I could ask a favour?” 

“Anything. What do you need?” 

“I don’t know anything about my real family other than that they were probably affluent and from the Congregation. When I was born the Nauts and the merchant princes had a complex relationship. I must have been used to settle a debt or forge a truce. But that doesn’t matter.” He prefers not to think about why he was given up. 

He pauses, and Elizabet runs her fingers through his hair.

“The mystery of where I come from has become an obsession. I need to know where I come from. If I were patient enough I could wait to become a fleet commander and then I would be told. But... since being laid off, such a promotion seems somewhat improbable.”

“Would you like my help finding this information?”

“Yes. The records of all seamen stationed on the island are in their respective ports. Mine must be in the harbour office here in New Sérène and must contain my family name. But if I go there I’d be spotted right away. I... suspect your brother’s assistance will be needed as well. Not so much for him, but for his title.” 

“In case something goes wrong, you mean?” 

“Yes. I don’t want any Nauts to get hurt. They’re still my family.” 

Elizabet looks horrified by the thought. “I would never hurt any of them!” 

“It’s not you I’m worried about,” he says quietly and her face falls. 

“He knows how angry I am with him. That means he should actually behave himself.” 

“Speaking of that...” he pulls her more tightly against him and kisses her. “You leaping to my defence was incredibly sexy. And much appreciated.” 

Elizabet giggles. “I wasn’t trying to turn you on, you know. I don’t think I’ve ever been that angry in my life.”

“Vasco, we own a horse by the way,” she says a few minutes later, as if the thought just popped into her mind. 

“What?” Vasco looks at her as if she’s lost her mind. 

“I needed to be able to get to San Matheus quickly if something happened. When I got your letter I tried to rent a horse. None were available. So I bought one. His name is Strawberry.” 

“Horses aren’t native to here. That must not have been cheap...” 

“I’d have paid whatever the stable master asked. But, before we figure out what to do with our new horse, I think I should take you riding on it.” 

Vasco is slightly panicked at the thought. “I’ve never ridden a horse. I’m a Naut! We don’t ride horses.” 

“I’ll make sure you’re safe. Can’t have you here on land and never ride a horse,” she says, grinning. 

“On the contrary, we very much can.” He looks at her and sighs. “Once. I’ll do it once. But only because you bought the damn creature to save my ass.”


	9. A Horse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elizabet makes an unusual purchase to protect Vasco.

“Lady De Sardet, a letter has come for you,” their housekeeper, Judy hands her a letter. Her name on the outside is written in Vasco’s hand but it is closed with Loïc’s seal. 

_Tempest,_

_I must keep this vague. Your brother has insisted Siora and myself accompany him on a mission that will put us in direct danger of capture by the inquisitors. I know you’re aware of what will happen if we are captured._

_We leave this morning. I will send another letter with the evening mail to let you know that I am safe. If you do not receive that letter, make haste to San Matheus._

_We’d both rather not become unwilling participants in their next bonfire and if we are captured, you may be our only hope._

_I love you._

“No,” she whispers. She told Loïc to keep him safe. And now his life is in danger. “Judy,” she calls. 

The woman returns to the room and looks startled by her appearance. “My lady, what is the matter? You look as if you’ve had a fright.” 

“Where can I obtain a horse? For tonight. I may need to ride through the night to San Matheus.” 

“There are stables outside the city, but there are few horses on the island. They use the native animals to pull wagons but you cannot ride them. I’d be happy to book you a wagon for your journey.”

“It must be a horse,” she says firmly. “If I must leave tonight I need to be in San Matheus by morning. I will go to the stables and arrange a horse.” 

“It is dangerous out there. You cannot go alone, especially at night!” Judy protests. 

“My partner is in danger; I have no choice. I will bring my pistol and will be wearing my rings.” Without giving her a chance to respond, she rushes out the door, running towards the stable, uncaring of the strange looks she is receiving from the other nobility she passes. 

There are a handful of horses in the stable and most look to be carriage horses. She finds the stable master. “I may have need of a horse tonight. Can I please arrange to rent one?” 

The stable master looks suspicious. “What for?” 

“If I need to travel tonight, I need to go as quickly as possible. Horseback gives me the best chance at arriving on time.” 

“And you know how to ride?”

“I do,” she confirms. She hates doing it but she can ride. 

The man goes and checks his log. “None are available tonight. Sorry.” 

“What will it cost to ‘lose’ a booking?” She pulls out her coin purse. 

He crosses his arms and glares at her. “I’m a professional, madam.” 

“Then allow me to buy a horse!” She cries impatiently. 

“Rich people,” the horse master grumbles under his breath. “You have the coin? Horses have to travel by ship from the continent and aren’t cheap.” 

Of which she’s well aware and it’s a struggle not to roll her eyes or chew this man out. But she needs a horse so she will tolerate the condescension. “I do. Name your price.” 

It’s 1000 gold; an exorbitant sum but she doesn’t care. “It goes without saying that the horse will remain here and I will pay for its care until further notice,” she says. 

Perhaps she can give it as a gift to Siora’s clan. Or give it to Constantin? She has no need of a horse after tonight. 

Once back at the apartment she tracks down Judy. “I’ll need the evening mail immediately. What time does it normally arrive?” 

“Around eight pm, Lady De Sardet.” 

It’s noon now. Eight hours. Eight hours she must sit and wonder if her love is safe or if he’s been captured. What if they’ve already put him and Siora to the pyre? “No, no, no,” she whispers, bursting into tears. 

Serving staff are taught to maintain discretion so Judy maintains a wide berth. At least until she rushes to the privy to vomit. “Should I call for a doctor? You’ve taken ill!” She calls from outside the door. 

“No need. I become nauseous when I’m worried. Please just make sure I get the mail the moment it arrives.”

“Yes, Lady De Sardet.”

Eight pm comes and goes. “Is there always evening mail?” 

“Not always. But usually. Occasionally it has been delayed.” 

Nine. If there’s no mail by nine she’s leaving. She has a significant amount of gold packed to pay for the bribes needed to free Vasco and Siora, food, water and her weapons. 

It’s five to nine when the mail arrives. “A single letter for you,” Judy says, handing it to her. 

Her name is written in Vasco’s hand. With Loïc’s seal. Fingers trembling, she opens it to find confirmation he is safe. She kisses the letter. “Thank you. Thank you,” she whispers to no one in particular, tears streaming down her face. 

“Lady De Sardet?” 

“My partner is safe,” she croaks. “I will not need to go to San Matheus.” 

It’s still horrible, waiting for him to come home. “You’re distracted,” Constantin observes the next day. “What is wrong?” 

She’s being a terrible assistant and is well aware of it. 

“Vasco was on a... dangerous mission and while I’ve received word he is safe, I will not feel better until he is home with me.” She will not cause strife between Constantin and Loïc by saying that it was Loïc who chose to put Vasco in danger. 

“Your sweetheart is a Naut and is used to diving into danger. He probably got a rush from it!” 

Not this. Not this at all. In his first letter his penmanship was unsteady, telling her his hands must have been shaking as he wrote. Vasco has sailed through a hurricane, survived a shot to the lung and dove into freezing water to rescue a child but it’s this that has really frightened him. Thinking of him and Siora doing whatever they were doing, terrified of being caught and burned hits her and she starts to cry softly, hoping her tears aren’t noticed. 

But they are. Constantin wraps his arms around her. “Do not despair. He’ll be home soon enough and full of new stories to tell you!” 

“Can I have a few days off when he returns home? I... need time with him. Just the two of us. I’ll book a room at the nice inn here in town. We can rest, soak in the tub, eat fruit and get massages.” 

“You need not ask permission to take a few days off,” Constantin says, scoffing. “I dare say you won’t miss anything important here. Why Father thought I needed an assistant is beyond me, but at least you can dissect creatures at your leisure.” 

“He just wanted me gone and this was the easiest way to do it,” she says, erupting into a fresh fit of sobs while Constantin pats her rather awkwardly on the back. 

He never has been good at providing comfort. Distraction, yes, but when she’s so overwhelmed with emotion that a distraction does not work, Constantin is generally at a loss. 

After she leaves the palace she goes to the inn and books a room for them, hoping the time away will help. 

***

Her anger burns white hot and only builds as she waits for Vasco to return home. 

Mother always said that it is the calmest people who are most frightening when they’ve reached their boiling point. The only other time she can remember being this angry is when she saw Constantin’s face after he met with his father following an incident which saw him get caught in a closet with a decidedly non-noble woman at a ball. 

Back then, there was nothing she could do. She couldn’t stand up to the prince on Constantin’s behalf. All she could do was try to heal his injuries and comfort him while he waited for Loïc’s lessons with Uncle Adrien to come to an end for the day. 

Now, she can do something. She can protect Vasco and make it entirely clear that this behaviour will not be tolerated. It’s an uncomfortable realization; deciding that if this happens again her brother will die for it. 

She loves Loïc, despite everything. She doesn’t like him but she loves him. The very idea of killing him to protect Vasco horrifies her, sending her into an anxiety spiral that ends in a panic attack and vomiting into the chamber pot. 

“Judy is going to think I’m expecting,” she thinks, once she’s calmed down. She isn’t - and even casts a quick spell to confirm that’s not the case. She has been drinking the tea to prevent pregnancy every day since she was 18 years old, making a pregnancy unlikely. 

They’re home the next afternoon and her relief is palpable. A relief that ignites into rage as soon as she sees Loïc. He smiles when she catches his eye. _Smiles_ , as if he didn’t just send her partner and Siora off to risk a horrendous death. It only makes her angrier. 

And so, she shows it. She holds nothing back, hitting him so hard her hand stings and throbs. She shouts and makes a scene - something she’s never dared to do before this. 

For once, it is Loïc who is scared of her, rather than the other way around. And it shames her when she realizes just how satisfying it is. 

***

Well, Vasco is on the horse. Looking terribly irritated about it (the horse looks no happier to have such an incompetent rider on his back), but he’s on him. Realizing he shouldn’t ride on his own, at least not at first, she gets on as well. “So, how long do we need to do this for it to count as a ride?” 

This is the only time she’ll ever get him on a horse so she’s going to have them ride at least a little bit. 

“Thought we could go out of town and have a picnic. I had the serving staff at the inn pack us a lunch and a bottle of wine. Afterwards we’ll return the horse, go back to the hotel, and continue hiding away from the world.” She has the horse on a slow trot and Vasco is holding onto her tightly, as if afraid he is going to fall off. “I’ve booked massages for us for tomorrow, by the way.” 

“Is this how nobility vacations all the time? I’ve occasionally had someone rub my back if it’s especially sore but I’ve never paid someone to do it. Forgive the indelicate question but is it a doctor who does it or...” he trails off but his question is clear. 

“Not a doctor but someone trained in the art. I had to ask around to find people; turns out there’s only the one business in town and they were quite pleased to receive my inquiry. You’re going to need it tomorrow because you’ll be very sore.” 

Vasco lets out a resigned sigh behind her. 

“As for vacations, we generally went into the country. My family had a home there. And I often did have to go horseback riding; Constantin and Loïc love it but I loathe it. After this we can figure out who to gift the horse to.”

Vasco is still holding onto her tightly. “Worse than sailing through a storm?” She teases. 

“I don’t know or trust the animal and am well aware that should there be desire to, he would buck us off and trample us.” 

“Strawberry is well-trained and has a good temperament. You won’t need to worry about that,” she tells him. “Though I do like being held,” she adds. 

They find a good spot to set up so she ties up the horse while Vasco lays down a blanket and opens the wine. For awhile they nibble on the meat, cheese and crackers in silence, but then Vasco speaks up. 

“I never thanked you. For doing this. Buying a horse, I mean. You didn’t have to do this. There’s a good chance they would have just tortured us for awhile first; tried to get us to convert to the light,” he says with an edge of mockery as he references the notion of being converted. While he’s trying to be wry, it’s a front. This experience has left scars on his soul and it breaks her heart. 

“I could hardly travel by wagon if I thought the two of you were being tortured. I - didn’t know how long I would have had. And I knew if I didn’t buy a horse that day, I was unlikely to get the stable master to agree to sell me a horse late in the evening. I did what I needed so I could leave at a moment’s notice.” She takes his hand. “How are you doing?” 

Vasco hesitates. “Don’t feel like you have to hold anything back just because the man who put you in danger is related to me,” she says. 

He can’t meet her eyes. “Had a lot thrown at me while I’ve been at sea. More than most my age,” he shows her his hands; every finger save for his thumbs has a line tattooed just below the knuckle. “Every time the sea has almost taken me. Illness, injury, a hurricane, near drowning, hypothermia, and nearly dying of dehydration on a becalmed sea. All of this I could handle. I’m a sailor; I know the risks and I know how to mitigate them. But what I had to do there... that was something else entirely. And it’s stuck with me a bit. Siora too.” 

“You’re safe,” she whispers. “I won’t let it happen to either of you again. I’ll protect you both.”

Vasco picks a blade of grass and fiddles with it. “When we arrived in San Matheus they were burning a guardian in the square. A _nadaig_ , in the Native tongue. It was similar to the beast you fought in Sérène. The cries were just awful and the smell of burning flesh stung my nostrils. There was a boy there; a young Native boy. About Jonas’ age. One of the Inquisitors strangled him. There was nothing we could do.” Vasco sighs and when he speaks again he’s angry. “Do you know what I thought?” 

“What is that?” 

“‘At least they didn’t burn him.’ A boy was _murdered_ in front of me and I was relieved his cause of death was slightly less barbaric than I’ve come to expect from the priests of Thélème. I wasn’t angry that they killed him or that they made that creature suffer as they burned it. I was relieved. What does that say about me?” 

Through all this he refuses to meet her eye; the grass he was fidgeting with snaps and he picks a fresh piece, tying knots into it as they talk. 

“You were in a traumatic situation, forced to watch an awful thing in a city full of people that think you are a threat. Being relieved that a young man didn’t suffer a horrendous death doesn’t mean you lack compassion. It means in the moment you were trying to cope as best you could.” 

“I’ve seen them burn people, you know. Never a Naut. I was a teenager and a friend of mine dared me to go to the square and watch while we were on leave. I hid in an alley. It was such a terrible idea; had I been seen the crowd likely would have wanted to throw me up next to the poor bastard they were burning. But, as a damned kid I thought I was immortal. ‘They get other Nauts but they won’t get me!’ Stupid. So stupid of me.”

“I regretted it, but I felt like I couldn’t leave. Because the crowd was watching it as if it were entertainment. And, while the man never knew I was there, I wanted there to be at least one person in the crowd condemning it. There are very few crimes in this world I’d say deserve a death by burning. All this man did was think differently from them. Not a crime.” 

Vasco looks up at her and gives her a sad smile. “We’re supposed to be relaxing and here I am talking about burning people.” 

“You survived an ordeal and I’m here to support you however you need. If this is helpful, then I am glad to speak of it.” 

Vasco drains his glass and pours himself another, topping her glass up in the process. “I’d thought to fight my way out. If we were to be arrested. Thought it better to die by a spell or a blade than the fire,” he says quietly. “I’m sorry. I sent you that letter and if you rushed to rescue me, all you’d have found was my body.” 

“No Love, please do not apologize.” She takes a sip of wine to ward back the tears burning in her eyes; she will not cry. Not now. Not when he needs her to be strong. “Loïc was tasked with finding two people accused of heresy back in Sérène. He snuck into your warehouses -“ Vasco frowns, “and found them. Instead of allowing them to escape on one of your ships, he told them he was going to arrest them. They chose to fight rather than surrender. Loïc killed them. I thought those people made the right call. The decision I would have made. I’d have never been angry with you for making the same decision. It’s Loïc I’m angry with. I hate that he put the two of you through that.” 

Vasco nods, setting his glass onto the blanket and turning his head from her. She considers for a moment, and then wraps her arms around him. He stiffens and she wonders if she’s made a mistake but then his arms are around her, holding her tightly. Vasco clings to her for a long time and when he finally breaks the embrace, he gives her a kiss. “Can we walk back with the horse? Just realizing my thighs are killing me.”

“Not going to turn you into a trail rider, I take it?” 

“I’m a Naut, Tempest.”

As anticipated, the next morning Vasco is sore. Extremely sore. “Why do people do this to themselves?” He groans, walking around their room slowly, looking as if he’s much older than he actually is. 

“It’s a good way to get around. And some people find it enjoyable.” 

“Some people are idiots,” Vasco quips and she laughs. 

“In an hour we’ll be getting massages and you might feel a little better afterwards.” She gets out of bed, trying to disguise her own aches; it has been at least two years since she had last rode a horse, after all, and grabs their breakfast, which was left outside the door for them. 

“The Congregation excels at breakfast food,” Vasco says as they eat. “It has always been my favourite meal while on leave there. You ever had Bridge Alliance food?” 

“At the odd gathering but not frequently. It’s interesting but very different from what I’m used to.” 

Vasco grins at her, taking a bite of his croissant and chewing before speaking. “You haven’t had the real stuff, then. Otherwise you’d be telling me how spicy it is. Guessing you’ve never had anything spicy before?” 

“I’ve had freshly ground pepper,” she responds. 

Vasco gives her a blank stare and she feels very out of her depth in this conversation. “I’ll get you some real spicy food. Start you off slowly; you won’t be able to eat what I eat right away. Though they didn’t bring all of their spices with them so any food you get in Hikmet is a pale imitation.” 

“Bridge Alliance food is your favourite, I assume?” 

Vasco nods. “It is. Though the food on our island comes close. Lots of seafood - I’m sure you’re shocked to learn that,” he says, smirking. 

“A Naut eating seafood? I never would have thought.” 

“So what is the plan for today, after our massages?” Vasco asks her after they finish eating. 

“Sex. Lots of it,” she says dryly and is rewarded with a bark of a laugh from Vasco. 

“It appears I will be disappointing you, then, because unless these people you hired can work miracles, I’m entirely out of commission.” 

“I hadn’t noticed. Perhaps you should groan a little more as you move around the room.” 

Vasco leans over and gives her a kiss. “Such sympathy from you.” 

“You rode for an hour. Imagine how you’d feel after an entire day in the saddle. I used to have to do that, you know. Our instructor would have the three of us saddle up at dawn and we’d be back at dusk. Loïc and Constantin loved it; I tried not to complain but I always preferred hiking on foot out in the country.”

“Think if I spent an entire day riding I’d eventually drop off the horse and you’d just have to leave me where I fell.” 

“Is my tough, gruff sailor so easily defeated by a horse?” She giggles, leaning in for another kiss. “Don’t worry; I won’t tell anyone.” 

“I’ll tell the crew. They’ll hardly believe I got up on a horse. If I tell the story right they’ll actually believe I was in mortal peril as we rode.” 

“Strawberry is a very sweet and dignified animal,” she shoots back as she stands up to answer the knock at the door. 

“His name is ‘Strawberry’,” Vasco responds. “Only so much dignity he can muster with a name like that.” 

“I’m sorry; we can call him ‘Reginald’ from now on.”

“Don’t you dare,” Vasco says, snort-laughing. 

The two massage therapists look rather baffled by the scene and the banter in front of them. A Naut and a noble in a Silver District inn is... unusual. But, they get over it quickly enough and have them both lie on the bed. 

Massages were a great idea. One of the better ideas she’s ever had. “You’re carrying stress in your shoulders,” her therapist murmurs as she works the knots out of her shoulders. 

“It’s been a difficult few days,” she says. “Getting to relax has been much-needed for us both.” 

Next to her Vasco is silent; she suspects he might have fallen asleep. “We went horseback riding yesterday and he’s rather sore as a result,” she says to the man tending to him. “Not sure if there’s anything you can do to help.” 

“I had not realized Nauts rode horses,” he responds. 

“They don’t, as my partner would be very quick to tell you if he were actually awake right now.” 

It’s good that he’s sleeping. While he hasn’t said as much to her, she’s noticed he hasn’t slept well these last few days. 

Vasco is still asleep afterwards so she sits up in bed and does some reading. That a massage puts him right to sleep is useful to know, she thinks, especially if they ever go to sea as they’d originally planned. 

“Shit, did I sleep the whole day?” Vasco croaks late in the afternoon. 

“Most of it. I’ve been catching up on some reading.” 

“Sorry. Think I dozed off about ten minutes into it. You should have woke me,” he says, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. 

“We’re here to relax. I’m glad you were able to get some sleep. I can go down and have them bring us dinner. Any special requests?” 

Vasco, unused to being waited on, is silent for a long while. “A bottle of whiskey, perhaps? I wouldn’t mind having a few drinks with you tonight if you’d like,” she suggests. 

“Works for me,” he says. 

Before going downstairs she puts on a blouse and skirt, deciding that it might be seen as unseemly to go down in just her robe. As she makes her way downstairs she finds herself wishing to just stay here, instead of returning to the apartment and to a world where she has to worry about her partner’s safety with her brother. A world where she’s not accepted as she is. 

She hates the mask she must wear. But it is chipped and cracked; revealing who she truly is to those who look closely. In time it will be smashed entirely, crushed to dust and sent scattering over the sea by the wind. 

Until then she endures.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, while the subject matter of this chapter was generally serious, I couldn’t help but think of that scene in Thor where he goes to the pet shop and announces “I need a horse”.


	10. Jealousy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loïc’s jealousy puts Siora and Vasco in a dangerous situation.

Returning to Constantin’s quarters, he shuts the door gently behind him. “Why would you do that?”

“Do what?” Constantin looks baffled.

“Flirt with the Native woman. And in my presence, as well.” Still standing by the doorway, he’s unsure what to do with himself. Sit? Lie in bed with Constantin? 

He remains standing for now. 

“Why are you so upset, my lucky star? It was just a bit of innocent flirting with a cute woman!” 

There’s no innocent flirting with Constantin. The need to keep their relationship secret forced him to engage in periodic affairs with women and to spend nights at the brothel back in Sérène. 

Judging from Constantin’s reaction to it all, having to spend nights with women was hardly the burden it was for him as he had to stand aside and watch others touch his lover. 

“You _promised_ to leave that behind! To ‘commit to bachelorhood’ here in New Sérène! But the first time you see a pretty face, you’re practically slobbering all over her!” 

“I was hardly slobbering, Loïc,” Constantin says flippantly. “You know it’s you I love. And, I know how much you love me. You get jealous so often.” Constantin approaches him and takes his hands. “It’s rather nice, seeing you in a jealous rage. Wanting to have me all to yourself. I’m flattered.” 

He recoils away, sidestepping towards the bed. “Don’t. You know how it hurts me, Darling. Please don’t look at women. I know I’m the only man you would ever eye,” Constantin looks somewhat guilty at that and he frowns in response; who was he looking over? “Who is the other man? Who are you bedding?” 

Constantin looks genuinely angry now. “No one! You know I’d never take another man but you!”

“Ellie’s Naut? Is it him?” 

“No! Loïc, calm yourself; the help will hear. It is you I love. Only you.” 

“Other people have touched you,” Loïc says, his voice breaking. “You’ve experienced pleasure from others. People that aren’t good enough for you. I hate that, Darling. I hate it.” 

“I’ve told you that you are allowed to take other lovers if it would make you feel better,”  
Constantin says, undoing his doublet and hanging it up. Next he removes his shirt, and then his breeches, leaving him in just his smalls. “Come to bed. Enough of this angst.” 

“I don’t want the touch of another man. I only want you.” 

“Then come here and touch me,” Constantin says suggestively. 

He doesn’t want to be angry with him. Not when he’s about to leave for San Matheus. “Stop looking at other people,” he demands. 

“I’m human. Do you think Elizabet stops noticing attractive women now that she’s found a man she loves? Don’t you notice other good looking men?” 

“There is no one but you,” Loïc says firmly. “Please. I can’t. I don’t want to say anything that hurts you. I’m so jealous, Constantin. It aches. Please stop this. I love you.” He rushes over to Constantin, kissing him forcefully, running his hands over his body before stepping back. “I’ll return in a few days.” 

Constantin sighs, looking frustrated. His darling hates it when their quarrels are not resolved immediately. “I love you too. Will you come to me when you return?” 

“As soon as I’m able. I promise.” 

Walking back to the apartment makes him realize something. The Native girl needs to disappear. Then there will be no one for Constantin to eye other than him. 

***

While he doesn’t say as much, he almost hopes they’re caught in Claudius’ home. Then the Naut destroying Ellie and the Native who has caught his darling’s eye disappear in a puff of smoke. 

But when they are he opts to talk them out of it. Mostly because they looked ready to attack him too and a pile of dead inquisitors would be unable to burn his trash for him. 

Gave them a good scare at least. The Naut, who previously seemed unflappable, was shaking like a leaf. When he leaves his room to arrange for the delivery of his letter, his eyes are red-rimmed. As if he’d been crying. 

Making the Naut cry feels remarkably satisfying. 

It’s rather obnoxious, he thinks, seeing Ellie’s rather public display of affection aimed at the Naut. Then she turns her attention to him. Eyes blazing with fury, he realizes that he’s miscalculated. That Ellie’s anger will outweigh the benefits of scaring the Naut and Native. 

Palm meets cheek and his face stings from the force of her blow. Ellie has _never_ struck him. Never. Who does she think she is? 

“Explain yourself!” She shouts. 

Ellie has never shouted at him like this. Her rings are on her fingers and she could attack. He shrinks down, regretting handing his sword off to the help for sharpening as they walked up to the door. 

He doesn’t actually remember what he says to her in his desperation to end the confrontation. When she moves to hit him again he pleads with her to stop. Hands grip his collar and he’s pushed against the wall. 

“If you ever put my love in danger like that again, I will kill you. Understood?” Cold. Stone cold, and he knows she isn’t bluffing. 

He nods and flees once she releases him, tripping on the stairs. Scrambling, he makes his way back to his feet and runs into his room, locking the door behind him. 

That could have gone better. Preferably in a manner that didn’t result in his dignity being shattered across the sitting room floor. Loïc strips and draws himself a bath, not wanting to call for the help after looking in the mirror and seeing the imprint of her hand on his cheek. That’s going to bruise - badly. 

Briefly he considers calling for her and asking her to heal it for him. 

A wide-brimmed hat conceals what his face powder cannot. Kurt approaches when he makes his way downstairs. “Green Blood and Captain Vasco have left for a few days. I was told not to tell you where but that they are safe and that Vasco will not be joining you on our journey to Hikmet.” 

“You and Petrus will be. The Native can stay here.” 

“Sir, with Thélème and the Bridge Alliance at war...” 

“I don’t exactly have many options, do I? Ellie has confiscated her Naut and the Native is liable to slit my throat as I sleep. I need to meet with the governor; I will not be back tonight,” he says, pushing Kurt aside as he storms out the door. 

He has a key to Constantin’s private quarters, which he uses. Handing a note to the help, he sits in his darling’s room and waits. Constantin comes to him within the hour. 

“My lucky star! I missed you,” Constantin opens his arms and he rushes towards him, resting his head in the crook of his neck. He’s safe here. 

When he lifts his head, he frowns. He’d forgotten about the face powder. Cursing, he tries to brush it off Constantin’s doublet. “What is the matter?” 

“My face powder got on your shoulder. I’m sorry, Darling.” 

Constantin shrugs and removes the doublet, tossing it onto a chair. “I’ll have someone clean it; it’s no trouble. Why are you wearing powder? This isn’t a formal visit; you need not hide any blemishes today.” 

There’ll be no hiding it from him. He pulls his hat off, revealing the mark on his face. Constantin looks furious. “Who did this to you? I’ll have their head!” 

If he tells Constantin that it was Ellie, that would require telling the entire story. And Constantin approves of her relationship with the Naut for reasons he still cannot fathom. He can’t bear risking Constantin’s anger. Not after the way they departed last. “Just a bandit. Nothing was damaged, save for my pride,” he lies. 

“And is this scum dead for their crime?” 

“They are.” 

“Good. My brave and strong Loïc,” Constantin says fondly, gently touching the mark. “Elizabet would heal it if you asked.” 

“Her and the Naut aren’t home.” 

“Oh! Yes! She said something happened in San Matheus? She was very distraught and cried quite a lot. Was that the bandits?” 

“Yes,” he says; a pit in his stomach as he continues to lie to his darling. 

“She asked for a few days off and I gave it to her. Lucky her; she gets to spend the next week in bed with her beloved! I’m a little envious... but I do have the rest of today and all of tonight to spend in bed with my own beloved...” 

He has Constantin. No matter how angry Ellie is with him, everything is fine because his darling loves him.


	11. Reunions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Petrus is reunited with the twins for the first time in years.

Arelwin’s twins. Loïc and Elizabet De Sardet. He knows things he shouldn’t know. Loïc is the older of the two. Elizabet was born with a head full of thick, dark hair. Hair that she still has, he’s pleased to see. 

Elizabet hides behind her cousin when he’s introduced to them. Loïc jumps forward and offers his hands in an enthusiastic greeting. “Well, aren’t you the little star of the party?” He says to Loïc, chuckling fondly. Turning to Elizabet, he speaks more gently. “I will not hurt you, my child. Would you like to say hello?” 

Her bottom lip trembles but she says a soft hello. “Ellie is shy,” Loïc says. “Big crowds make her cry.” 

Indeed, they do; he sees dried tear tracks on her blotchy face. “What if we went somewhere quiet and I let you try my rings on?” He suggests. 

“I want to try the rings!” Loïc takes Elizabet’s hand. “Constantin and I will hold your hand until you aren’t scared anymore.” And they do, he notices, protecting her as they navigate through the thick crowd of people clad in elaborate gowns and suits. 

Loïc puts the rings on first and shows some talent, but quickly grows bored by the floating orbs of white light he’s managed to conjure. He hands the rings to Constantin who, unsurprisingly, has no talent in the area. “Would you like to try?” He asks Elizabet who nods. 

“Want to play swords?” Loïc asks Constantin. 

“Yes! I’m going to win!” Constantin says, laughing as Loïc runs off. 

Petrus looks over at Elizabet, briefly concerned that without her brother and cousin she will become overwhelmed. He sees she’s watched them leave. “Can I still try?” She asks, as if she’s expecting him to tell her to run off after them. 

“Of course,” he says, smiling as he slides them on her little fingers. They’re far too large for her and look ridiculous but they’ll still work. “Try to conjure a ball of light.” 

Where her brother had to strain to do so, Elizabet conjures one instantly. She gasps and looks far happier than he’s seen her look all evening. “Well done, my child!” Without prompting her to do so, she starts to move it around the room, giggling with delight. 

The girl is young - maybe five years old so he should not try to teach her anything that could cause real damage. A shame, because she’s naturally skilled. “When you’re a little older, make sure you get trained in the use of magic. You are very good at it,” he tells her. 

“It’s very pretty,” she says. 

“It is,” he agrees. “Would you like to go play with your brother and cousin?” 

Elizabet pauses. “Maybe later. Would you show me magic? You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” she adds nervously, looking down at her feet. 

“I’d be happy to,” he says, taking back his rings and vowing to wow her with a demonstration of his abilities. 

He imagines training the girl. Arelwin’s daughter. Her son too, though he suspects the boy might take more naturally to a sword. But then Arelwin dies and remaining in Sérène brings back nothing but painful memories. An opportunity to return to Thélème falls in his lap and he takes it. 

As he boards the ship, he remembers the promise he made to Arelwin. To watch over them. “I’ll see them again one day and I will take care of them,” he says, looking up at the sky. 

Hopefully wherever Arelwin is she’s heard him. 

***

Loïc De Sardet walks with a haughty air around him. Over the years he’s heard numerous rumours about the man. He’s Prince d’Orsay’s chosen successor, for one; trained personally by the man. Interesting and rather unexpected. 

Another rumour is far more troubling. Apparently him and his cousin are lovers. While they aren’t actually related, that’s a very carefully kept secret so as far as anyone who murmurs the rumour knows, he’s in an incestuous relationship. 

Elizabet he’s heard nothing about, save for the fact that... nobody really knows anything about her. Which speaks volumes. She dislikes life at court and avoids it, for one. He’s a little surprised to hear she was sent to the island as well, but as her cousin’s assistant. 

Loïc De Sardet remembers him and greets him politely, if a little distantly. “We can certainly travel back to New Sérène together,” Loïc says. “Your company will be far nicer than my current company.” 

With Loïc is a Coin Guard - Kurt. The man looks stern, but fairly typical of the people of his guild. A Native woman, Siora, is also with him, looking shaken. It is unfortunate that she had to witness the unpleasantries of the Ordo Luminis this morning. The third is a Naut - Captain Vasco. He’s intrigued by the man. Not so much because of who he is but by Loïc’s reaction to the man. It’s clear almost immediately that Loïc despises him. A feeling that’s obviously mutual. 

Arelwin’s son navigates politics skillfully and in a manner that reminds him of his uncle. Which lends credence to the rumour that Loïc and not Constantin is to be the prince’s successor. Perhaps not on paper but in spirit. 

It’s not until the next day that he’s able to determine just why Loïc is so bothered by the captain. After being told he is to help break into Inquisitor Claudius’ home, the captain hastily writes a letter, sending it to be delivered to New Sérène. “Who were you writing?” He asks the other man. 

“Elizabet. She needs to know what is happening here because if Siora and I are arrested she is our only hope.” 

“I would do my best to free you both,” he tells Vasco. “I could hardly let harm come to our legate’s allies.” 

Vasco is unconvinced by his promise. “Siora you might be able to save but De Sardet would light my pyre himself. And if you’ll pardon me, I don’t know you. And I don’t trust you.” 

A smart thing, he thinks. Though openly revealing his disdain of a colleague to another colleague is a mistake. One he doubts the captain would be bothered by; he doesn’t strike him as the sort of man to hold his tongue. Something he tries to use for his own benefit. “Why would he do such a thing?” 

“Elizabet is my lover,” he says. “If you ask him, I’m defiling her. Real fuckin’ paternalistic, that man is. She’s smart. Thoughtful. Sensitive and gentle. He thinks he’s protecting her but he’s smothering her. You seem the observant sort; you’ll see it soon enough,” he says. 

“Do you love her?” 

The captain glares at him and he realizes that was probably a rather foolish question to ask. 

“And does she love you?” 

“Should probably ask her that. I don’t speak for her. I’m not _him_.” 

A Naut lover is... not ideal. But from his encounters with her as a child and the news (well, lack thereof...) he’s heard in the years since, Elizabet dislikes politics. Likely noble life in general. 

“What will you do when you return to sea?” 

“Don’t see how that’s any of your business,” Vasco responds coldly. “If I’m to be interrogated about my intentions, you can rest assured that they’re good. I’ve no plans to break her heart.” 

“I won’t let them kill you,” he says after a long pause. He promised Arelwin he would do all he could to protect her children. Protecting Elizabet from losing the person she loves seems to fall under that purview. 

“And as I’ve told you, I don’t know you. Or trust you,” the captain says before walking out of the room. 

While he waits for the three of them to return he mentally runs through his list of favours owed, and information he could use to secure the release of Siora and Vasco should it end up being necessary. 

He’s reminded of how Prince d’Orsay handled a successful tailor who had fallen on hard times as a result of his wife’s illness. The malichor, because that seems to be the cause of most early deaths nowadays. Several garments had been delivered without the same care and attention to detail the prince had come to expect from this man. 

Many would show mercy. Understanding. Prince d’Orsay had demanded a refund of the entire order. Not possible, given that the tailor had used the coin to purchase the fabric used to make the garments and the rest had gone to his wife’s care. 

So he took the man’s shop as payment. A once successful business owner; not nobility but affiliated enough with them, and he threw them onto the street. 

Apparently the man died of the malichor shortly after his wife. Kinder than the fate of others who crossed the prince: many of Arelwin’s fellow prisoners were those who got into debt and were unable to dig themselves out. 

What Prince d’Orsay did was a show of power. A reminder not to cross him. And few ever did because they knew the consequences were swift and ruthless. 

Captain Vasco crossed Loïc by falling in love with his sister. He’s unsure what Siora did to deserve such treatment, but there has to be something. 

A man like Prince d’Orsay can be reasoned with on certain matters. He just must be convinced that what you are proposing will be to his direct benefit. 

The three return and look no worse for wear, aside from the lingering nerves Siora and Vasco seem to have. “I’ve yet to speak to you alone, my child. Shall we share a bottle of wine?” 

Loïc removes his hat and opens a cabinet, pulling out a bottle of wine and two glasses, sitting down across from him. “It was kind of the staff to ensure there was wine on hand.” 

“There are eyes and ears everywhere; your preferences would have been noted before your arrival,” he says. “I had suspected you would grow up to wield a sword.” 

“Oh? Why is that?” Loïc takes a sip and nods approvingly. “Mind if I smoke?” 

Petrus shakes his head. Generally he dislikes the habit but knowing the vices of those around him is always useful. Loïc opens a cigarette case and pulls a pre-rolled cigarette out and offers one to him. “I do not partake,” he says. The man lights the cigarette and inhales, turning his head to exhale so the smoke does not get into his face. An awkward motion, which means few are extended this courtesy. 

“You and your cousin were always more interested in chasing one another with wooden swords than learning magic. It was Elizabet who was willing to sit still long enough for a demonstration.” 

“She has fond memories of your demonstrations,” Loïc says. “She wrote you a letter about five years ago but you’d already departed for San Matheus so your replacement answered.” 

“Oh? What about?” 

Loïc shrugs, feigning ignorance. “Some magic topic. She’s a skilled spellcaster.”

He knows precisely what was in that letter but does not wish to share it. Interesting. 

“I look forward to finally responding to her inquiry, then. You wear rings, which means you also cast.” 

Loïc looks down at his hands, the cigarette in his mouth forgotten; a significant build-up of ash threatens to fall on the floor. His gaze must draw attention to it because Loïc taps the cigarette on the edge of a nearby flower pot, depositing the ash into the soil. 

“That poor plant,” he thinks. 

“I can, though prefer not to. If it’s too dangerous to close in I’ll attack from afar. If I’m to fight, I’d like to actually see the life leave my opponent’s eyes. Magic is just so impersonal.” Loïc takes another sip from his wine glass. 

“Magic is not solely used to kill,” he says. “It can also protect. Or light one’s way.” 

Reaching over, Loïc deposits his cigarette butt in the pot. “Just as a sword can slice meat. But does anyone ever actually use it for that purpose?” 

Fascinating. Chilling, but fascinating. “Your training with your uncle has been extensive, I’ve heard.” 

“Yes. I saw an opportunity and took it and am all the better for it.” 

Out of the corner of his eye he sees the captain hand a letter to a member of the serving staff, asking that it be sent to New Sérène as soon as possible. 

“Remaining cognizant of opportunities available is wise,” he says, keeping his expression carefully neutral. 

***

Sitting in the wagon on their way to New Sérène, the divide between the group is clear. He sits next to Loïc. Vasco sits next to Siora and Kurt settles on that side, as well, though the guard appears to be caught in the middle of the divided team. 

Siora and Vasco talk quietly; far too quietly for him to hear what is being said. He sees Loïc glare their way. “My child, tell me more about your mission,” he says, to distract the man. 

If Loïc picks a fight with the captain, Vasco will respond in turn and he doesn’t particularly look forward to spending more than a day listening to the two of them bicker. 

But, Loïc seems pleased by the attention, giving Petrus the impression that his favourite topic of discussion is himself. More useful information to remain mindful of. 

New Sérène has developed quickly in the five years since it was founded. Something that never fails to impress him. “Your previous governor did a splendid job seeing to the construction of the city,” he says to Loïc. 

“She did. Though her time in the role was always going to be temporary.” 

A veiled reference to concerns that Lady Morange was growing too powerful. A threat to Prince d’Orsay; with New Sérène being so essential to the Congregation, any whispers of independence must be shut down quickly. 

Their conversation ends and Loïc turns to Vasco. “Naut,” Loïc says. “I have some chores that need doing, so you will not be returning to the apartment with us.” 

“I’m not your errand boy, De Sardet,” Vasco responds. 

“On the contrary, that’s precisely what you are. Your admiral told you to assist with anything I need, correct?” The captain rolls his eyes, confirming without words that what Loïc says is correct. “I have errands that need running and a sister to protect.” 

“Think I’ve earned myself a bit of leeway after breaking into an inquisitor’s house on your orders. I’ll be returning to the apartment with you.” 

“I should tell your admiral you’re not following my orders.”

“Go ahead! While you do, explain to her how you put my life in danger for no good reason,” Vasco snaps. 

“Don’t Nauts whip troublemakers? I could whip you,” De Sardet says. 

Vasco laughs and Petrus, looking over at Kurt, sees the Coin Guard looks distinctly uncomfortable with the turn the conversation has taken. Kurt looks at the floor of the wagon in a thousand yard stare, breathing carefully.

“I’d like to see you try, you spoiled little shit.” 

“And there it is. More insubordination. Kurt, what should I do with the Naut?” 

“Vasco has not caused any harm,” Kurt says through gritted teeth.

“Petrus?” 

“Were you to physically harm him, I expect it would damage your relations with the admiral. Not to mention your sister,” he says. 

“A shame nobody has whipped you. Might have been a good way to teach you to keep your mouth shut,” Loïc says. “Lucky I’d rather not deal with your admiral.” 

He notices Vasco has slid over and has a hand rested on Kurt’s shoulder. They do not speak, but Vasco remains near Kurt for the remainder of the journey. 

His first glimpse of Elizabet in nearly two decades is very different from his glimpse of Loïc. Where Loïc is haughty, Elizabet is expressive. She jumps into the arms of Captain Vasco, kissing him and clinging to him. Whatever she tells him is not for his ears to hear. 

Her next actions are shocking. She shouts at her brother. Shouts. The shy little girl who cried because she was scared of all of the people at the ball shouts at her brother in full view of them all. And then she threatens to kill him if he put Vasco in danger again. 

Well, that answers the question he asked of Vasco, then. Apparently she’s booked a room at an inn for the two of them. “A moment, my child?” He calls out, just as she’s about to head upstairs with the captain. 

She turns and smiles, recognizing him immediately. “Father Petrus! It has been... years! I’m so pleased to see you,” she says, walking over and embracing him. “I must apologize - I hate that you had to witness that. But I do not tolerate people threatening the life of my partner.” 

Partner. This is serious, then. “Nor should you,” he says. 

“I’d very much like to catch up properly but I...” her voice breaks and he sees the composure she’s tried to maintain beginning to crack. “I cannot be in this apartment right now. I need to be somewhere else with Vasco. So I’m going to grab my things and as soon as he’s ready to leave, we will go away for several days. I’m sorry,” she stammers and he sees a tear fall on her cheek. 

He gives her a reassuring smile. “Go and enjoy your time away. There will be plenty of time to catch up; I am the ambassador to New Sérène, after all.” Her brother never bothered to mention that. 

“I am pleased to hear that. And look forward to chatting with you further,” she says, giving him another hug before going upstairs. 

It’s difficult to quiet the voice in his head telling him that Elizabet was far more pleasant to speak to and that Arelwin would be shocked to see what Loïc has become.


	12. A Name for a Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vasco learns his origins.

Once her and Vasco have returned to the apartment, she tells Loïc they’re going to be helping Vasco find out about his family. 

Tells. Not asks. After what Loïc did to him, offering his assistance with this is the absolute least Loïc could do. “Very well, Ellie; we can go after lunch,” Loïc says without arguing the matter. 

Whether it’s because he’s still intimidated by her show of anger or feels a desire to suck up to her, she’s unsure, but is glad not to have to argue with him. 

To make it easier to sneak into the Harbour Office Vasco suggests speaking with Dieter at the brothel. 

She’s never actually been inside a brothel before. It’s strange to say she’s looking forward to the experience but it’s sure to be novel. 

Loïc disagrees. “Ellie cannot go into a brothel.” 

“I can do whatever I want,” she says with a shrug. “You’re free to wait outside if the idea offends your sensibilities.” 

“I’ve been inside a brothel before,” he shoots back. 

Over the years he’s had to fish Constantin out of the brothel more than once. Something that has brought him face-to-face with Constantin’s infidelity. It was always her who dealt with the fallout of it; Loïc’s devastation, the way he’d curl up in his bed and sob, not knowing how to make peace with Constantin doing what was deemed necessary to keep their relationship a secret. 

“That’s a surprise,” Vasco says, almost gleefully. “Didn’t think paying for a fuck was something the high and mighty Loïc De Sardet would have done.” 

She winces, realizing she should have warned Vasco that this was a sore spot for Loïc. But, given that her brother just put Vasco in danger, she’s not going to step in. Not yet, anyway. 

“It wasn’t for me,” Loïc says, sounding offended by the very idea of it. 

“That’s even better,” Vasco responds, looking even more pleased by the revelation. “I wonder who you had to pull out of a brothel? Care to elaborate?” 

“I’m more curious about your experiences in a brothel. You are a Naut after all. Tell me, how many people have you had? How many whores have you paid for?” 

She’s had enough. “Can we please stop talking about this? I’ll throw a bag of coin at Dieter and we can leave.” 

They make their way downstairs to the brothel and wait for Dieter to meet with them. While they wait, several men and women look upon them with curiosity. Loïc straightens his doublet and refuses to meet their eyes while she gives them a brief glance, more out of her own curiosity than anything. 

They’re attractive enough, she supposes, though not her type. The man is tall and solidly built, with fair skin and curly black hair. The woman’s hair is bleached blonde and curled in a rather elaborate hairstyle, while her dress teases her ample breasts. 

Neither of them are tattooed and it is to her own amusement that she realizes what a turn-off that is. Her attraction to Nauts has always been the subject of gentle teasing - mostly from Constantin but apparently at some point her interests shifted from ‘preferably a Naut’ to ‘must be a Naut’.

“Ellie, shouldn’t you know the history of the man you’ve slept with? What diseases you’re liable to get from him?” 

She looks over and sees Vasco roll his eyes. He told her fairly early on that he’d never actually used the services at a brothel. For the same reasons he does not tend to drink heavily: he’s ambitious and focused on advancing his career. Most of the nights he’s spent with others have been with his fellow Nauts, though he has told her he had spent the odd night with someone he met at a tavern and had a brief on-board affair with the daughter of a minor noble as a young adult. 

None of that is any of her brother’s business. 

“I know what I need to know. I wasn’t a virgin and nor was he when we got together. He need not share his entire sexual history with you. Or with me, for that matter. Drop it,” she says in an angry whisper. 

Eager to get out of here, she bribes Dieter with a bag of coin to spike the wine instead of trying to negotiate with him. 

“You didn’t need to do that,” Vasco whispers to her once they’ve left, “I could have offered to help him expand his business into San Matheus.” 

“A bribe was worth it,” she says, and Vasco says no more, likely recognizing her irritation and changes the subject. “So, were you impressed by the man and woman greeting us today?” 

Of course he’d notice her glancing at them. She blushes. “They’re not my type but attractive enough I suppose.” 

“Need a few tattoos?” He teases. 

“And piercings, if we’re only to speak of aesthetics.” 

***

She should have known Loïc would lack anything resembling discretion, given his disdain for Nauts. They’re caught in the harbour master’s office, despite arranging to have the wine spiked. Honestly, if she weren’t so damn angry, she’d be impressed that Loïc was able to make enough noise to draw the attention of the only two responsible guards on duty at the port tonight. The rest are fast asleep. 

The two Naut guards draw their swords and Loïc draws his and rushes forward. Desperately, she casts a stasis spell; not on the Nauts but on Loïc. They look baffled and stare at her, swords still in hand, unsure if they should attack the intruder who came to their aid. “I’m sorry!” She cries. “Can we come to a financial arrangement? He’ll kill you otherwise and I don’t want to see anyone get hurt.” 

If she can’t convince these guards to take a bribe then they’ll be killed by her brother and Vasco will be devastated. When she feels her stasis spell wearing off she casts it again. The Nauts look at each other. “How much?” One of them asks. 

“Name your price.” She’s always been a terrible negotiator. 

“100 gold. Each.” The other says. 

She walks over and plucks Loïc’s sword out of his frozen hands and cuts off the spell. “I’ve made a financial arrangement. Nobody will get hurt and our new friends will escort us out of the port,” she says, looking at the guards who nod in agreement. 

Opening her bag, she pulls out some parchment and writes them each a promissory note and signs it. I live at the apartments above the embassy. Ask for me and I will give you what you are owed in cash. And if I’m not available then show this note to the secretary and you will receive what you are owed. Please accept my most effusive apologies and thank you for allowing me to rectify this.” 

Out of the corner of her eye she sees Loïc rolls his eyes. The Nauts seem happy with their sudden good fortune and escort them two of them out of the port. “It was great to meet you, Lady De Sardet! Thanks again!” One of them says, waving at her as they depart. She waves back. 

With the money she’s promised them they can throw a far more interesting party than the current arrangement of paid company and wine. 

Or they can save the money. But, she has her doubts that will happen; Vasco has told her the warehouse guards tend to be the absolute bottom of the barrel. “They’re brave and know which way to point a gun and a sword, which is about all the credit I can give them,” he told her. 

“You wasted your money, Elizabet,” Loïc whispers as they make their way to where they planned to meet Vasco. 

“Their lives are worth it. I’d have paid whatever they asked,” she responds. “You were careless and specifically ignored Vasco’s request.” 

At least they got the file. Vasco looks worried when they return. “Vasco, I’m sorry - we were seen and I had to bribe two of the guards. I take full responsibility.” And she does; she should have told him not to involve her brother in this. 

“Nobody got hurt?” 

“No; my sister threw away a significant sum of money to ensure that was the case. A waste if you ask me,” Loïc grumbles. Vasco glares at him and takes the file from her. 

“Thank you,” he says to her; his relief evident, “for saving their lives.” 

“They have promised to show discretion and as far as they know, it was just the two of us poking around; at no point were you mentioned and they did not see that it was your file we grabbed,” she tells Vasco. 

“So, who is your family, then?” 

“None of your fucking business,” Vasco says to Loïc. 

“Fine, don’t tell me. I’m off to the palace to spend what remains of the night with Constantin to discuss matters with him.” 

“Bet he’ll be doing plenty of discussion,” Vasco mutters under his breathe once Loïc is gone. She giggles. 

Once back at the apartment they sit in their quarters and Vasco opens the file. 

“So I was right. My real name was Leandre, son of the d’Arcy family in Sérène. Nobles, I suppose?”

“Yes. I must admit I had no idea they had given a son to the Nauts.”

“To think I spent my childhood polishing ship bridges when I could have been wearing silk.” There’s an edge of bitterness to his tone. 

Elizabet thinks of her life - the desperate loneliness; knowing that she’ll never fit in the way Loïc did. Hating the political games and being forced to wear a mask. Hiding everything that interests her because a Congregation noble could never be a doctor. 

The arranged marriage, the beating and trying to make peace with a life that would never make her happy. 

“Growing up in nobility is not as simple as it sounds.”

“I know. You’ve told me the stories and I know how much you dislike it. I found my real name thanks to you. That’s what I wanted. Thank you.”

The name d’Arcy is familiar to her; it takes her a few moments to remember meeting a boy at court by that name.

“Leandre d’Arcy... I remember coming across a d’Arcy at my uncle’s court. Your brother no doubt.”

Vasco looks shocked. “My brother? What’s he like?”

“It was a long time ago... We were children. I couldn’t tell you what he looks like today.” She has few fond memories of the children she met at court, but does not mention this.

“A brother...I wonder if we are alike despite our completely different lives? Thank you for sharing this... And telling me about him. You gave me back my identity; this is more important than the Nauts care to admit.”

Vasco is being far more open about this topic than he ever has previously with her. Elizabet decides to ask the question she’s pondered since shortly after meeting him.

“Do you ever wish you hadn’t been given to the Nauts?”

“How could I not? I never got to experience a mother’s love or a lavish youth.”

“You do have happy memories from what you’ve told me.”

He smiles. “I remember the first time I climbed up the shrouds. The incredible view, the dizziness and the sensation of complete freedom. It was an unforgettable moment.”

“You always did look so happy when you were working up in the air on the voyage.”

“Isn’t that how I caught your eye in the first place?”

She blushes. “You were quite dashing....” she pauses, “are quite dashing,” she says, correcting herself. “It sounds amazing. I enjoyed the time we spent together in the crow’s nest. The view was beautiful.” 

“It was. I wouldn’t trade that memory for all the gold in the world.” He closes the file and puts it in a drawer. 

“You’ve given me a lot to think about.” Elizabet smiles at him, takes his hand and they lie in bed. 

“Had you ever heard of the d’Arcys before?”

“I had not. As you know, there are many noble families in Sérène. And there was a time when many of them had to give a child to the Nauts.”

Elizabet had not known this. It was not a topic that came up frequently in Sérène; it was as if it was a secret shoved under a rug and never spoken of, at court or otherwise.

Really, the only time Nauts came up in the palace was Uncle periodically grumbling about how they’re “a bunch of bloody crooks”. He never elaborated and Elizabet generally avoided asking him questions or speaking to him whenever she could help it. She wonders if Loïc would know more but doubts Vasco would want to ask him, given how thoroughly Loïc bungled this mission up. “I don’t remember your family very well but I could try to tell you about them if you like,” she offers.

“I would have loved to have met them but I’m afraid that hearing about them would only reopen old wounds.”

***

The next afternoon Loïc walks into the dining room with a lit cigarette in his mouth, the stench of it nearly making him gag. 

He knows for a fact that Elizabet has asked Loïc repeatedly to smoke in the garden and not indoors. “You’re supposed to smoke outside,” he says, itching for an argument. 

“This is my apartment, not Ellie’s and I will do what I wish within these walls.” 

“And poison the rest of us while you do,” he mutters. 

Loïc ignores his comment and sits at the table. “So, you know who your family is?”

“I do.” 

A puff of smoke is blown in his face and he waves his hand to disperse it. “It made you a better person, you know. Being a Naut.” 

“I’d have liked to have chosen my own destiny,” he snaps. 

Loïc finishes his cigarette and stubs it on the table, leaving a black burn in the white tablecloth. He winces, imagining the work Judy will have to put into cleaning and mending such a fine piece of fabric. Loïc notices. 

“With the money budgeted to run this house, the help can just go buy another tablecloth. It’s her fault for not keeping an ash tray out.” 

He suspects Elizabet asked Judy not to keep ash trays out in order to encourage him to smoke outdoors. Elizabet wouldn’t think he’d turn the linen into his personal ashtray. “You’re such a fucking jackass,” he mutters under his breath. 

Loïc smirks at him as he opens his cigarette case and pulls another one out. Presumably an action taken solely to annoy him. Rolling his eyes, he slides his breakfast plate over. “An ash tray. So you don’t do more damage to the linens in this house.” Leaning over, Loïc lights it with a nearby candle. 

“I’m curious about something. Elizabet’s bribes gave me an idea.” He just looks blankly at the other man. “What would it cost for you to walk away? Break Elizabet’s heart and never see her again? She’s a good woman and you drag her down. A shame, really.” 

He glares at Loïc. Elizabet is at a meeting with Constantin today, which is making him bold. Had there been any chance Elizabet could walk through the doors and overhear this, he’d never have this conversation. “There is no amount of gold in this world that could convince me to walk away from her.”

“A title, then? I’m sure I can have Constantin sign some papers...” 

“No. I love your sister and you best get used to me being around.” 

“For now,” he thinks silently to himself. Because one day they’ll leave her noble life behind. 

More smoke blows in his face and he disperses it with another wave of the hand. “Ellie has always been a little naive.” Loïc smirks again. 

Not naive. She looks at people and sees the best of them. An admirable quality. 

“That you think so little of Elizabet speaks volumes, De Sardet,” he says, standing up and walking away, not wanting to spend another moment in this man’s company.


	13. Missing in Action

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A search for Reiner ends in tragedy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: discussion of past child abuse.

He grew a beard in the two weeks before taking up his assigned post at the palace. At least, as much of a beard as a 20-year-old whelp can grow. An attempt to look older. More intimidating to his three charges. Three noble charges. 

“And to draw attention away from the scars on your face,” a voice in the back of his mind screams. He ignores it. 

“You are the new Master of Arms, then?” Prince d’Orsay levels him with a stare more appropriate for the dirt on the bottom of a shoe. The prince is a tall man; taller than him by at least three inches and he is by no means short. 

He finds his courage and focuses on keeping his voice steady. “Yes, your Highness. I spent several years receiving specialized training, and am a recent transfer from the front lines. My qualifications allow me to both teach and protect your son, niece and nephew.” 

“Come.” The prince stands up and personally leads him out to a courtyard, where a tall blonde boy and a tall boy with black hair are fighting with wooden swords. A petite girl with a thick plait of brown hair watches silently. “Your tutor is here!” 

All three stand at attention; the girl curtsies and the boys bow. “You will give Kurt here your full attention and make your training a priority.” 

“Yes, Sir,” all three of them say in response. 

It’ll be the blonde boy - Constantin, who will cause trouble. Immediately he questions his qualifications. The other boy, Loïc, asks him to pay attention and Constantin quiets immediately. Interesting. Elizabet has not said a single word, and cannot meet his eye. 

“Why were you not duelling with your brother and cousin?” He asks the girl. 

“Because I use magic instead,” she says and he has to strain to hear her. “I don’t want anyone to get hurt.” 

He points at the target across the courtyard. “Try to hit that.” 

Now, he knows little about teaching magic. Dodging spells, he can teach, but how to actually cast a spell? This could be interesting. And by interesting, he means terrible. 

She conjures up a ball of shadow and whips it at the target. Shadow doesn’t hit the target so much as engulf it. It bursts into black flames and he watches as it disintegrates. She looks at him with fear. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it!” 

He was the age of the children in front of him the first time he endured night training. He still bears those scars on his back. The girl - Elizabet, seems to be a nervous sort. At that moment he swears to never give any of them cause to fear him. They’ll never know the pain he did. So he gives her a crooked smile. “You really beat that target up. That was some good work. Looks as if we’ll be starting you right on the magic-resistant targets, Green Blood.” 

The name just slips out. He’s always given everyone around him a nickname. But she’s noble and this is entirely inappropriate. He opens his mouth to apologize but sees her grin widely, looking happier than she’s been since he entered the courtyard. “I got a nickname!” She says to the others. 

“You’ll call me by my title,” the blonde boy - Lord d’Orsay, says. 

Green Blood’s brother doesn’t say anything, so he assumes it best to refer to him by title, as well. 

Sword fighting he can teach. Magic is something else entirely. But, when he inquiries about a magic tutor for Green Blood, he is told to ‘figure it out’ by the man holding the purse strings, so he does. A contact from Thélème teaches him the theory in exchange for a weekly pint at the tavern, which he then teaches to Green Blood. Luckily she’s a voracious reader and a natural talent.

As the months go on, he learns that her brother is similarly disciplined, though he favours a blade. Lord d’Orsay has a tendency to goof off, frequently opting to chase the pigeons in the courtyard instead of practicing his foot work. “Congratulations; you can fight a flock of birds,” he calls to him. “Now get over here and learn to fight a proper opponent!” 

“Constantin, come duel with me!” Lord De Sardet says, and the boy comes traipsing over. 

After the lesson, Lord De Sardet and Lord d’Orsay run along, leaving a mess behind, as usual. Targets, armour, and blunted blades. Silently, Green Blood helps him put everything away. He’s noticed the closeness between the two boys. Hints of romantic affection if he isn’t mistaken. Green Blood is frequently left out. “Do you like it here?” She asks him. 

“I sleep in a comfortable bed and get fed three meals a day, which makes it better than anywhere else I’ve been stationed,” he says to her. And he can take a bath whenever he wants which is a luxury he never thought he’d have. 

“I’m glad. You are a good teacher. Thank you for that. And for protecting us.” 

“You need not thank me; I don’t do it for free,” he says dismissively. He’s a cold mercenary, nothing more. 

“You’re still nice,” Green Blood says after a long pause. 

Beards itch. He hates it. Six months in, after failing miserably at trimming it, he gets rid of it, leaving his face with nothing more than stubble. “I’ve been meaning to ask: what did you do to your face?” Lord d’Orsay asks, and he knows the boy isn’t asking about the missing beard. He flinches, though is admittedly surprised the topic hadn’t come up sooner. 

“Kurt doesn’t have to answer,” Green Blood admonishes her cousin. “That is a personal question and Mother taught us not to ask those kinds of things.” 

“I could insist,” the boy retorts. 

The idea of being ordered to share stories of the ghost camp by a child is a little sickening but the boy is not wrong. 

“Kurt told me the story!” Lord De Sardet says. “It was a grand, heroic tale. He saved a damsel from kidnapping and earned those scars fighting a dastardly masked villain!” 

“What he said,” Kurt says, forcing himself to grin at the children. 

A suitable tale. He wishes he’d earned those scars in any other way than the manner in which he received them. Night training. “Now no one will want your ugly mug!” Rolf taunted at the time; proud of his handiwork. 

“Kurt, do you feel unwell?” Green Blood’s voice pulls him out of the memory. “Do you need to return to your quarters?” 

“I’ll be fine. Just momentarily distracted, is all,” he says, trying to reassure her. 

Still, she drags a chair over, insists he sit, and she pours him a cup of water; watching as he drinks it. “You could be a doctor with the way you fuss over people,” he says to her and she looks pleased. 

They’re all good charges in their own way. But he has a soft spot for the shy little girl, who helps him drag the targets back into the shed and pours him cups of water. 

***

Three assailants at a party. Assailants dressed as Coin Guards. Green Blood and Lord De Sardet are the targets. He kills two of them easily with a slash of his sword but the third has a pistol and fires at Lord De Sardet, missing by a hair. 

Green Blood attacks, firing several balls of shadow at the man. Pulling his sword out of the body of one of the other men, he rushes, but the man falls to the ground before he can attack. Dead. 

She falls to the ground and he drops to his knees next to her. Was she wounded? “Tell me where you were hurt!” He looks around frantically. “Get a medic!” He shouts at a servant, who drops the tablecloths she was carrying and takes off running. 

Gently he’s feeling around, looking for stab wounds as she weeps uncontrollably and gasps for air. “It’s a panic attack,” Lord De Sardet says, sitting down next to her and throwing his arms around her. “We are safe now, Ellie. Thanks to you and Kurt. Please don’t cry.” 

Still, she does, until she passes out. Carefully he lifts her, bringing both her and Lord De Sardet to their mother’s quarters. The Princess De Sardet, resplendent in a ball gown and near dripping with jewels looks almost inconsolable. “My little girl? Is she...” 

“Passed out from the fright, your Highness,” he says. “Neither were hurt.” 

The princess turns to their butler. “Have the kitchen staff bring up a slice of Elizabet’s favourite cake. And a bowl of shaved ice for Loïc. My children will remain with me tonight.” 

“Lady De Sardet killed one of the assassins,” he murmurs to the princess. “She is likely to be troubled by it.” 

“My poor girl. To be so young and to have had to do such a horrid thing...” 

He doesn’t tell her that he was 11 the first time he took a life. It was either him or the boy he was thrown in the ring with. He won. On another day he’d have died and he would be nothing more than bones in an unmarked grave now. “Yes, an awful thing indeed,” he says. 

“Thank you for protecting them. Prince d’Orsay will hear of your heroism and I will send something down to your quarters. An expression of my gratitude.” 

Green Blood has recovered from her fright and looks confused by her surroundings. “We’re just about to get you settled with your mother,” he says, stepping inside the princess’ quarters and laying her on the bed. “You were very brave tonight and did an honourable thing. Be proud,” he says and Green Blood throws her arms around his neck and hugs him tightly. 

“I killed someone,” she whispers tearfully in his ear. 

“I know. I’m sorry I didn’t get there first.” 

And he is. Just because he was forced to kill at 11 doesn’t mean they should share that burden. She’s too young to have the death of a man staining her soul, even if the man was trying to kill her and her brother. 

It’s several days before lessons resume; Princess De Sardet insists that all of the children take a few days off. “How are you doing, Green Blood?” He asks when he sees the three of them once more. She shrugs. 

“If you want to talk about it, I’m here.” 

She sighs heavily. “Does it hurt?” 

“Does what hurt?” 

“Dying.” 

He wouldn’t know. He’s never died before. “The man wouldn’t have suffered. You took his life quickly, just as I taught you. There... are worse ways to go.” 

Had they been taken alive the death the assassins would have been granted would have been unspeakably brutal. Still, Green Blood hardly looks comforted by his words. She wouldn’t be. While casting those spells saved her brother’s life, it came at a cost to her. 

“Uncle Adrien says that once the person responsible for catching the assassins is caught he will make sure Constantin and I watch the execution,” Lord De Sardet says with an odd pride in his voice. As if being forced to watch someone die is a sign of maturity. 

He’s careful not to react to this revelation. Executions are an unpleasant thing. The execution of someone who sent assassins after members of the royal family will be horrific. Not something for children to see. But that’s not his decision; it’s Prince d’Orsay’s. 

“I’m sure the person responsible will be caught,” he says carefully. “Now, time to get to work.” 

***

“I’m sorry Kurt, but Constantin has guards that I’ve vetted personally. They are trustworthy. You are free to visit Reiner on your own time but I cannot take the time to go with you.” Lord De Sardet looks sympathetic but just a little irritated at having to explain this as him and Petrus are preparing to leave for a dinner engagement.

“I’ll be at the palace tonight. The dinner will go long so I’ll spend the night there.”

A subtle way of saying he will be spending the night with Lord d’Orsay. Lord De Sardet’s feelings for his cousin were always obvious. It was mere puppy love when he first met him as a boy, but it grew into something real. Though, propriety has forced their relationship into the shadows.

“Take care of your cousin,” he says and Lord De Sardet smirks.

“Oh I will, Kurt.”

Once Lord De Sardet has left, Green Blood speaks up. “May I go with you? I’d like to meet your friend. Another trustworthy guard for Constantin is always a good thing.” 

He smiles at her, realizing he should have just asked her first. “Shall we go tomorrow?” 

“I’d like that very much. It will be nice to get out and shake up my routine a little.” 

“If you’d like another with you, I could come along as well?” Vasco offers. 

Kurt shrugs. “One more person won’t hurt.”

***

“It’s nice to feel useful. I’ve been hunting and dissecting beasts as practice because there’s little else to do,” Elizabet says as the three of them walk to the barracks the next morning. 

“Hardly a waste of your time; you need practice if you’re to be a doctor,” Kurt says. 

“Practicing on a dead animal is far different from a person. Anatomically, a deceased person would be better for my education but that’s an option only offered to students in the Bridge Alliance.” 

The good cheer between the three of them evaporates immediately after the revelation that Reiner drowned. He pulls the three of them aside. “He was a good swimmer and wasn’t a drinker. That’s not the true story; they’re covering it up. I’d like to pay a visit to the morgue - Green Blood; would you be willing to perform an autopsy?” 

She nods. “Kurt, I’m so sorry. This wasn’t how I wanted to get the chance to practice,” she says. 

“Had we come here just a few days earlier he’d still be alive... I should have come sooner.” 

A sentiment he keeps in mind as he threatens the doctor into allowing the three of them in to see Reiner’s body. They enter the morgue to find his naked body lying flat on a table, without so much as a sheet covering him. Green Blood gasps. “Vasco, find a sheet so we can preserve his dignity,” she says, eyes focused on the floor. 

Recruits are disposable and not worth even the courtesy of having their bodies shielded from curious eyes in death. Vasco finds a white sheet in a cabinet and drapes it over the lower half of his body. He nods at the other man in thanks. “I’m going to need to examine his body now,” she says. 

“He’s not the first person I’ve seen with the light gone from their eyes,” he says grimly. 

“Reiner didn’t drown, Kurt. I’ve seen enough drowned bodies in my life to be able to tell you that much,” Vasco says. “I’m sorry. I know the pain of losing a crew member.” 

“Thanks Vasco.”

Green Blood gently runs her hands along his body. “The blow to his skull was the fatal one, but he has numerous other blunt trauma injuries. Broken ribs and a broken arm. Kurt, he was beaten to death,” she says, sounding horrified. 

“I’m going to find out what’s going on. Something isn’t right,” Kurt says. 

By the end of the day he has some leads to follow and is cautiously optimistic he will find where Reiner’s training camp was. With that knowledge, he can pay them a little visit. 

For now, it is time to mourn. The three of them sit in Elizabet and Vasco’s quarters sharing a bottle of rum as they toast to Reiner’s memory. 

“Kurt, I’m sorry. Once you know more I’d like to help you however you can,” Elizabet says, leaning over and giving him a hug. 

“I’ll offer my services as well,” Vasco adds. 

Their willingness to help in a matter that does not concern them one bit touches him. “Lord De Sardet is a busy man; asking him in the first place was stupid of me. I’m grateful for you both.” 

Vasco looks like there’s something he wishes to say but is likely only holding his tongue for Green Blood’s sake. 

“Well, I’m much less busy. And even if I were busy, you’re my friend and the things going on in your life are important to me,” she says. 

“And, while I was ordered to follow De Sardet around, can’t expect the admiral will be irritated if I take a few days to help a friend. Particularly by Elizabet’s side.” 

“We’ll put a stop to this. For Reiner,” he says, lifting his glass. Green Blood and Vasco follow suit, draining their glasses. 

***

“What was in the merchandise you smuggled onto my ship, by the way?” Vasco asks him as they spar the next morning. The sailor lunges and he parries the strike. Hardly missing a beat, Vasco manages to trip him, sending him flat on his ass. A sword is pointed at his throat “Yield?” 

The damned man is quick. More hurricane than man in a fight. “Yield,” he says. “It’s a good thing Green Blood is at the palace; I’d hate for her to have seen that display.” Vasco offers a hand and he takes it. “She’d get a good laugh out of her man kicking my ass.” 

“You’re predictable. You are good at taking a blow and not easy to knock down, but I have picked up on when you’re vulnerable.” 

He takes a swig out of his water skin. “And you’re entirely unpredictable. That’s a risk in its own way. Those fighting at your side don’t know what you’ll do next.” 

“I don’t make it a habit of being a liability on the battlefield. I’m unpredictable because that’s what works best with my specific set of skills. Now, back to my question. The merchandise.” Vasco fixes him with a hard stare. 

“How did you know about that?” 

“I’m not a bloody idiot? As captain of the ship it’s my job to know these things. Should have tossed the damn crates overboard - had Admiral Cabral found out about them I was liable to be put on permanent shore leave.” 

“I don’t know,” he admits. 

“You... don’t... know?” Vasco speaks slowly, as if he cannot comprehend what he is saying and he finds himself irritated by the man’s attitude.

“No. I had my orders and I... attempted to follow them. Lord De Sardet refused to help back in Sérène. So Commander Torsten got them on your ship himself. I didn’t even know they’d made it on until I arrived at the barracks. Lord De Sardet picked them up and wouldn’t let me go with him. Said I’d look far too conspicuous given that I’m a foot taller than all the Nauts at the port are.” 

“Not a foot taller,” Vasco grumbles under his breath. “You do recognize that having you smuggle the merchandise is suspicious, right? Why wouldn’t they go through the proper proceedings at the port?” 

“Last minute shipment?” 

“Wrong,” Vasco says firmly. “They don’t want anyone to know what was in those shipments. And, because the jackass didn’t bring you along, you lack that information.” Vasco sighs. “Listen, I like you and consider you a friend. Elizabet trusts you and feels the same. But the continent’s tendency to afford their trust to a group of sell swords has never made much sense to me.” 

“Says the mercenary of the ocean,” he shoots back. 

“I don’t kill people for coin,” he snaps before softening slightly. “I don’t want to argue with you. I’m trying to warn you. Something isn’t right with your people and I think you know it.” 

“I’m looking into what happened to Reiner. I’ve got a meeting later today with someone. At a tavern near the port so we won’t be overheard. Whatever happened to him - that’s not what the guard is about.”

“My people’s tavern, then,” Vasco says, nodding in approval. “Smart. Find out what was in those crates if you can. You’re in a position to do a proper investigation.” 

Despite the early hours, it’s hot out and Vasco pulls his shirt off. He can’t help but notice the scar off the centre of his abdomen. Clearly from a bullet. “Ever taken any lead?” Vasco asks. 

Not much gets by the sailor, that’s for certain. He notices everything. “Can’t say I have. Count myself lucky in that regard, at least.” Granted, his scars are far more unsightly than a healed over bullet hole is. He’s not proud of the scars on his back and he knows the sailor has seen them and is well aware of what they were from. But not that he was just a boy when Hermann took the whip to him. That remains a secret. “That scar looks old. How old were you?”

“15. It was an accident; not something that happened in a fight. Not my fault,” he adds quickly. Well, obviously it wasn’t his fault; Vasco has shown himself to be singularly competent with a gun. “I don’t recommend it.” 

“Well, I’ll cancel my afternoon plans to go out and get myself shot then.” A deflection; he doesn’t want Vasco to ask about his own scars. 

Vasco chuckles, seemingly recognizing his discomfort with where the conversation might lead and opts not to ask. “Smart man.” 

He stands up, starting to head towards the door when Vasco calls for him. He turns around. 

“There’s one more thing you should know.” Kurt looks at the other man expectantly. “You are paid to protect Elizabet. But you are also paid to protect her brother and her cousin. Your priorities are split. Mine aren’t. And keeping that woman safe is my top priority.” 

“I know, Sailor. You’re hardly subtle about it.” 

“Just a reminder. If she’s in danger, there is no one I won’t gut to keep her safe.” 

“Shouldn’t it be me giving you the shovel speech?” He asks, cocking an eyebrow. 

“I’m not threatening you, Kurt. Just speaking in generalities.”


	14. Cooking Breakfast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elizabet tries to cook and it goes wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is straight-up fluff to break-up some rather heavy chapters.

In her life she’s woken up beside two other lovers besides Vasco. Neither of them were people she spent a second night with and neither encounter was worth the bother. When she woke up to the sun and looked over at her sleeping bed partner, she felt nothing more than impatience and wondered if it would be rude to just get dressed and leave without providing the expected praise. 

“Yes, I had a fantastic time with you; we must do this again.” 

“I’m so glad I got to wake up next to you!” 

“I’ll be thinking of this night for months.” 

Lies. All of it. Had she been able to be honest, she’d have provided some constructive feedback on how to actually be an unselfish and satisfying lay. You’d think it would be obvious that examining her mark in great detail for fear of catching the malichor before the main event is _not_ a turn on. Nor is refusing to remove one’s dress, forcing her to tunnel through yards of fabric in order to be the satisfying lover she failed to be blessed with. 

And then there’s Vasco. Vasco, who makes her laugh. Who makes her feel safe. Who holds her as they fall asleep. There’s a tenderness to him that she never expected. Not something seen by many, she assumes, but she’s managed to break those walls down. 

He’s also a damn good lover... Not that she can brag about that to anyone save for him. Though she did hear Kurt grumbling about ‘thin walls’ the other day so perhaps her bragging is of an entirely unintentional sort. Oh well. 

Vasco has done so much for her, she thinks as they lie in bed. Not just her but for everyone around him. He’s still sleeping and the bright rays of the morning sun have woken her up. 

The morning sun seems to bother him less than it bothers her. A consequence of living a life at sea, perhaps? She should ask about getting darker curtains - being up this early is not her preference. 

He deserves something nice, she realizes. To have her appreciation shown properly. Periodically he’s cooked for her. He’s excellent at it and is fond of good food. 

“I’m going to make him breakfast,” she decides to herself. Leaning over, she kisses him on the forehead and he smiles but does not wake. 

As she wanders downstairs, she thinks about what she could possibly cook. Bacon seems easy enough - you just throw it into a hot pan until it’s crispy. And pancakes are the same! 

Once, many years ago, she made pancakes for Mother. She thinks she can remember the recipe. Regardless, it’s cooking - who needs a recipe anyway? 

With a heavy hand she begins throwing flour, baking powder, salt and sugar into a bowl. Flour flies into the air, landing all over her black blouse. When she notices, she starts patting at it, only to leave handprints in her wake. 

“I’ll need to change after breakfast,” she says to herself as she pours more salt into the mixture, followed by milk. 

It... sort of looks the way she remembers it. People have told her you can experiment with proportions in cooking anyway - it’ll be fine! 

She decides it looks a little thin and adds more flour. Then, realizing she hadn’t preheated a pan, she throws more coal into the stove, placing two pans onto the stovetop. 

Bacon is easy. All she needs is to grab it from the icebox and put it into the pan. Nervously, she taps her feet as she waits for the pans to heat up - she’s hoping to get everything finished before Vasco gets up so she can surprise him with a lovely meal in bed. An indulgence she suspects he’s rarely been able to enjoy. 

Once the pans are appropriately heated she puts several spoonfuls of batter into one and the entire slab of bacon into the other. A mistake, evidently, because hot oil crackles and flies everywhere. No matter, it will be fine, she thinks, as she focuses her attention on the pancakes. 

They don’t quite smell like pancakes and they’re not looking like pancakes. In fact, she cannot flip them - they’re sticking to the pan. 

Briefly she considers calling for Judy but doesn’t. No. She is an adult capable of cooking and she will do this for Vasco. 

More oil splatters, burning her hand and out of the corner of her eye she sees red. With mounting horror, she realizes the bacon is on fire. “Shit!” She curses as acrid black smoke fills the air of the small kitchen. Rushing to the tap, she fills a bucket with water, standing back and readying herself to throw the bucket onto the stove. 

“Not on a grease fire!” She hears a frantic cry, followed by Vasco, clad only in his smalls, rushing towards the stove, grabbing the lid and placing it on the pan. Then, he grabs a nearby towel and lifts the pan off the stove. 

The wall around the stove is charred and burned black, but otherwise the damage seems minimal. Her cheeks flush with embarrassment - she nearly burned the damn apartment down just because she was trying to do something nice. 

“I’m sorry.” 

Vasco looks at her, taking in her dishevelled appearance - the flour all over her blouse and in her hair, the small burns on her hands from the splattered oil and the soot on her face and laughs. Wildly; hysterically. At first she thinks to be irritated - she was trying to do something nice, after all, and then the absurdity of the entire situation hits her and she begins laughing too. 

Finally Vasco calms, wiping his eyes. “I wanted to surprise you but not like this. I’m so sorry.” 

“Good way to get the heart pumping, waking up to the smell of something burning,” Vasco says lightly. “Someone’ll be able to repair that damage without too much trouble. So, describe your cooking methods to me.” He leans back against the counter, looking at her with great amusement. 

“I... put food in a hot pan but did not get food in return?” 

Vasco eyes the pan with the pancakes that are burned to the bottom. “You didn’t use any butter or lard did you? And you forgot to put eggs in the batter.” 

“Why would I need butter or lard?” Her cheeks burn once more when she realizes that, yes, she did forget about the eggs. 

“So they don’t stick to the pan. Did you not have a recipe?”

“I didn’t think you needed one for cooking.” 

“But you’re baking when you make pancakes,” he points out. “Which means your measurements need to be precise, just like when you’re making potions.” 

“Oh. I didn’t know that,” she says rather dumbly. 

Vasco snorts. “That wasn’t obvious at all.” Carefully, Vasco lifts the lid and black smoke rises out of the pan but the fire appears to have been extinguished. “Judy will probably be able to salvage the pan,” he says. “You had it a bit too hot. And you can’t cook that much bacon at once in a single pan. You do a few strips of it at a time.” 

“Oh.” She feels a little useless right now.

“You haven’t cooked before, have you?” 

“I have a few times,” she protests. 

“And what happened?” 

“I was kicked out of the kitchen,” she mumbles under her breath. 

Vasco seems unsurprised by this revelation. “Those who did so have wisdom, it seems. You’re an excellent alchemist but those techniques do not always translate to cooking. And when they do, it doesn’t help if you are not aware of the importance of following a recipe.”

“Is any of this salvageable?” 

“Nope. We should let the stove cool off, anyway, and let Judy know what happened. She’ll be able to send for someone to come and repair the wall.” 

“I’m so stupid,” she says, covering her face. The last thing she wanted to do was cause trouble. 

He wraps his arms around her, kissing her on the cheek. “No you aren’t. It was very sweet of you to try. But, perhaps next time it might be best to avoid the kitchen.” 

“Let me take you out for breakfast. It’s my fault we don’t have anything to eat. And you should get upstairs before someone comes in and sees that you’re mostly naked.”

“I suppose I cannot feel guilty about being treated to breakfast after I kept the apartment from burning to the ground,” Vasco quips before leaving the kitchen to return to their quarters. 

Before going up to change she finds Judy in the back of the apartment doing laundry. “I used the kitchen and caused a grease fire and damaged the wall and Vasco says the stove shouldn’t be used for awhile; I’m sorry,” she blurts out, speaking rapidly; words running together. 

Judy looks a little shocked but hides it quickly. “Was anyone hurt?” She shakes her head. “I’ll call for someone to make the repairs.” 

“Take whatever the cost of the damage is out of my personal account. And please let me know if you have to work later than normal as a result of this because I will cover your overtime wages myself. I’m so sorry for the trouble. I was trying to surprise Vasco and... well... he said I probably shouldn’t try to cook. I’m truly terrible at it. I’m sorry,” she says again; causing this much trouble has made her feel terrible. 

Judy goes back to folding the laundry. “Accidents happen, Lady De Sardet. Do not trouble yourself over it; we will get it fixed.” 

“If Loïc notices, be honest and tell him it was my fault. I don’t want anyone to get into trouble as a result of my foolishness.” 

“He’s away, Lady De Sardet. I’ll have someone come by today and the damage will be repaired before he returns home.” 

Well, that’s a relief. Judy hides her feelings well, as anyone working in service must, but her discomfort around her brother is obvious and Judy has taken to approaching her regarding household matters whenever possible. 

“Do you know a good breakfast place? I’m taking Vasco out.” 

An hour later the two of them are sitting in a small restaurant in the copper district. Not a place frequented by nobility so the staff are surprised to see her. And even more surprised to see her walking hand-in-hand with a Naut. 

Vasco orders the pancakes. “Figure I may as well get what I’d have eaten had you been able to finish cooking for us.” 

He’s kind enough not to mention that her pancakes would not actually have been edible, she notices. She orders herself an omelet. 

Someone comes by with tea. The tea pot is simple; lacking the intricate designs of the porcelain commonly seen in noble houses or restaurants in the Silver District. But this place is charming; the proprietors appear to live upstairs and the walls are decorated with wreathes made from sticks and dried plants that were presumably gathered outside the city. 

Her anxiety remains bad. Vasco looked terrified in the kitchen as he rushed past her. Fires on a ship are dangerous - if not dealt with quickly, the entire ship and crew would be lost. Given how flammable the sails, wood and rope would be if a spark catches, it makes sense that it’s something he fears. In fact, they were told very firmly that they were not to smoke in their cabins and were told to keep it to a specific spot on deck. 

Whether Loïc followed that rule, she does not know. 

“You don’t need to tear a strip off yourself,” Vasco says. “Nobody got hurt and the damage will be fixed. There is one matter we should discuss...” 

She winces, expecting a show of anger. “Sorry,” Vasco says when he notices her expression. “I’m not angry. More of a safety thing than anything. Did no one teach you how to handle a grease fire?”

Shaking her head, she says, “I thought all fires were the same.” 

“If you pour oil and water into the same container, the oil will sit on top. It’s lighter than the water. So, when you use water to douse a grease fire, all it does is cause it to spread. You need to smother it,” he explains. 

“Something you learned as part of being a Naut?” 

“Fire safety is a priority for rather obvious reasons,” he says. “Never had a fire on-board and hope I never will.” 

“Is there a tattoo for putting out a fire on board?” Vasco nods. “What is it?” 

“They tattoo flames all across your forehead,” Vasco says, grinning. 

“You’re full of shit.” 

He laughs. “Is it that obvious?” 

“I do happen to know you reasonably well by now,” she points out. 

Their food arrives. Vasco takes a bite and looks pleased - far happier than he ever would have been with anything she had made. “I think I’ll just take you out for breakfast,” she says. 

“Or leave the cooking to me? There are many other things you are good at. I don’t think I’ve had a single bruise longer than a day or two since we’ve become lovers,” he says. 

She heals any bruises she happens to notice on him. Even the little ones. At first he would try to tell her not to worry but quickly gave up and allows her to fuss over him if she notices something. 

“You craft all the potions that keep us safe,” he continues. “When we’re out in public you hold my hand and kiss me, even though people stare and people talk. Tempest, do you have any idea how much that means to me? To love someone willing to sacrifice their reputation and their place in the world to be by my side?”

“It’s not a sacrifice if it isn’t something I ever wanted in the first place,” she says. “For years I’ve wanted to be a doctor. Joining the Nauts allows me to do that and spend a life with the man I love. Easy decision.”

“Nobody has ever treated me like you do. Courted me. Held me, not because you’re looking for a fuck but because you want to be close to me. I had a boyfriend as a teenager but... it wasn’t like this. It wasn’t romantic. This is something almost all Nauts want. But I was promoted so young I wasn’t sure I’d ever get to have it.” Vasco takes a sip of his tea and clears his throat, staring off at some spot in the distance. 

“I wasn’t ever supposed to have this either. In 50 years when we’re old and retired it’s a story we can tell all the young folks around us. That we were two people once from very different worlds who ignored pragmatism and propriety and just decided to love one another.” 

“So, why did you decide to try to surprise me with breakfast?” Vasco asks once their dishes are cleared. 

“I... just thought that you’ve done a lot for everyone. You helped Kurt, and you did what you could to keep Siora safe. And you’re so good to me. I wanted to take care of you. And instead you took care of me.” 

“We take care of one another. I keep you from burning the apartment down, and you keep me in one piece. In a pinch, I can also shoot anyone dumb enough to threaten you. Or give ‘em a good stabbing.” 

Vasco speaks wryly but she knows him well enough to know he’s being completely serious. “I hope it wouldn’t come to that. It’s not as if I face a ton of danger as Constantin’s assistant.” 

She stands up and Vasco does as well, and they leave the restaurant. Now that it’s late morning it’s become almost sweltering and the humidity makes her skin feel unpleasantly sticky almost immediately. 

As they’re walking home she wraps an arm around Vasco’s waist. A small act of affection; one she had not realized meant so much to him. He wraps his around her waist in turn and she gleefully ignores the strange looks given to her by the nobility when they make their way through the Silver District. 

How many members of the nobility could say they’ve truly loved? That their spouse is someone who makes them happy? Mother truly loved Father; their match was arranged but one that was a good fit for them both. A rarity. Uncle Adrien and Aunt Suzette work well professionally but hold little personal fondness for one another. 

Growing up, she cannot recall a single instance of a happy marriage amongst the nobility. Any loving relationships she knew of were affairs; kept very quiet and only possible after a child or two was born. The very thought of having to meet Vasco in secret and marrying someone else... she wouldn’t do it. Wouldn’t even consider marrying anyone besides the man walking by her side. 

Kurt is at the apartment when they get in. “So, who let Green Blood into the kitchen?” 

“Judy told you?” She asks; her cheeks burning with embarrassment. 

“Didn’t need to,” Kurt smirks. “I smelled smoke and knew you had to have been in the kitchen. Sailor, the cooks at the palace banished her from the kitchen years ago. Don’t let her anywhere near a kitchen or a pot on the camp fire - best she stick to making her fancy potions that keep us all standing when we get poked with the wrong end of a sword.” 

“I told you before that you’re not supposed to touch the sharp end, Kurt,” she teases. 

“Well, shit. What kind of teacher have I been all these years?” She laughs but quickly stops when Kurt turns serious. “I got the location of the training camp. Can we leave soon to check it out?” 

“Tomorrow morning? Does that work for you both?” 

“I’ve got nothing planned save for watching your backs,” Vasco says. 

Kurt nods. “Thanks Green Blood. Sailor. This is good of you both and I won’t forget what you’re doing for me.”


	15. Ghost Camp

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kurt, Elizabet and Vasco shut down the ghost camp.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: references to past child abuse, PTSD and a panic attack.

They’re in the midst of a summer heat wave in Sérène. Very unseasonable and the palace, which was not built with such temperatures in mind, is sweltering. 

Still, training must go on and he’s in the middle of a training session with Green Blood, Lord De Sardet and Lord d’Orsay. The latter two have stripped their doublets and shirts off - a dangerous thing to do in combat he reminds them. 

“Dying of heat stroke is dangerous too,” Lord De Sardet responds. “Tell him, Ellie.” 

“Heat stroke is dangerous,” Green Blood murmurs. “But we must remember the importance of remaining protected too.” 

Green Blood regularly tries to placate her brother. As someone interested in medicine and healing, she would know the risks of overheating on a theoretical level. Not first hand. Not like he does. He thinks back to marches through swamps and being denied water in the stifling heat. Of watching his fellow recruits vomit up water they could not afford to lose, only to drop dead in the middle of the swamp. Other recruits chanced the swamp water out of desperation, only to shit themselves to death a week later. A terrible way to go. 

It really is damn hot. So he does something he never wanted to do around his little fledglings: he takes his shirt off. 

“How’d you get those scars?” Lord De Sardet asks with an amused smirk. 

He forces himself not to react. “In battle. Just before I was transferred here.” 

“No you didn’t, you liar,” Lord De Sardet says. “Those are scars from a whip. Who saw fit to give you a whipping?” 

“They do look most unpleasant,” Lord d’Orsay adds. 

“Loïc! Do not ask such personal questions - that is terribly rude,” Green Blood admonishes before turning to him. “You do not need to tell us anything you do not wish to share.” 

“Aren’t you curious, Ellie? Kurt, what must your lovers think, I wonder? Who would ever want to touch such a mess?”

Rolf said something similar to him once. Life at the palace has kept him too busy for more than the odd night at the Coin Tavern brothel. Or so he tells himself. Deep down he fears that a lover he hasn’t paid for would see his scars and flee. 

“Stop it Loïc!” A small ball of shadow spins in her right hand and he wonders if she conjured it knowingly or if it is a result of the anger she feels towards her brother. 

Either way, it’s enough to scare him off. He raises his hands in surrender. “Find, let the Coin Guard keep his secrets.” 

“Enough chatting - back to work,” he says; the only sign of his discomfort with the discussion being the grateful look he sneaks Green Blood when the others aren’t looking. 

Several days later there’s a knock at his door. He opens it to find no one there, but a basket filled with jars and a letter sit on the ground. Strange. He opens the letter first. 

_Kurt,_

_I’m sorry for the way my brother treated you the other day. You deserve your privacy and he was unkind._

_I hope I’m not overreaching, but I know scar tissue can cause pain and tightness. I looked through my textbooks in search of a remedy in case this is something you are living with. Apply this salve twice a day if you are. If it helps, I’d be happy to make you more._

_Thank you for everything you do for the three of us._

_Elizabet_

Opening one of the jars, the overwhelming smell of mint floods his nose. The ingredients she used would cost far more than he’d ever be able to afford and he’s reluctant to accept the gift. 

But his scars are frequently stiff and cause pain. A pain he learned to live with. And she has so few chances to use the skills she’s teaching herself. So he uses it and is pleasantly surprised to find it helps. 

Still, he won’t ask her to spend that much money on him. When he finishes the jars she gave him several months later, he discovers the mint was for more than just the cooling sensation it provides - the fragrance allows her to determine when she would need to make more. Clearly she knows him well enough to know he would never ask her for more. 

A fresh batch is handed to him following their lessons. “It is working, then?” She asks, looking pleased. 

“It is. Thank you. You don’t need to do this, you know.” 

“I want to. It’s good practice and I’m happy to help you feel well.” 

***

They’re heading out of town to investigate. Green Blood leaves a note for Lord De Sardet but does not bother to mention where they are going. “I told Siora, so she knows, just in case,” she says. 

“There’s a gopher hole, watch out!” Elizabet calls out and Vasco laughs. 

“Your guard will think me completely inept,” the sailor says, stepping around the hole. 

“You’re useless at starting a fire, but you’re the one with the map getting us where we need to go, so I won’t complain,” he says. 

He hates to think it but travelling with her and her sailor is far more pleasant than traveling with Lord De Sardet. She’s genuine and is enthusiastic about being out exploring the island. There’s no games with her. No cruelty. 

“I like it out here. The wide open space. It’s less stressful than being in the city, if that makes sense,” Elizabet says as the three of them sit by the fire that night. 

“I miss the sea. I never knew grass had a smell before leaving New Sérène. It’s... strange. Not bad, but strange. Not smelling the sea salt in the air feels wrong.” The captain sounds wistful about it and he sees Green Blood take his hand. 

“Could always plan a walk down by the beach when we get back to the city? Won’t be the same but it might ease your homesickness,” he suggests. 

“I might do that,” Vasco says. “Do you have a home that you miss?” 

“Sort of? I have a few memories of my wet nurse when I was little. I miss her. Never really had a home that felt like mine after I left her. I lived at the palace for years but it wasn’t home. It was a bed, regular pay and three square meals a day.” He doubts he will ever have a home to call his own if he’s honest with himself. “Do you miss home, Green Blood?” 

“I miss my mother,” she says. “I feel more at home here than I ever did there.” 

Kurt suspects she’s not speaking of the apartment when she speaks of home. Not when she holds the sailor’s hand the way she does. Wherever he is - that’s home to her. 

Shit, he’s turning into a sopping romantic; same as them. “You two look good together,” he says and Green Blood smiles brightly. 

“You approve, then?” 

“So long as the sailor continues to behave himself.” 

Vasco snorts. “I never behave myself. Think that’s what she likes about me.” 

“I meant that you treat her right,” he says, slightly exasperated. 

“I’m well aware what you meant. It’s more entertaining to be a pain in your ass.” 

“You are good at that,” he concedes. 

He fears what they will find at this camp and intrusive memories of his own years at the ghost camp on the continent have been haunting him. So he tries to speak of other things, to forget about the horrors of his childhood. 

There’s a single downside, he realizes as they’re approaching the camp. Green Blood, while remarkably intelligent, lacks charisma and confidence.

“I’m not a legate; how will I ensure we get in to inspect the camp?” She asks the two of them, sounding nervous. 

Vasco starts walking backwards, looking straight at her. “Stand tall; act every bit the noble your name says you are. You are Loïc De Sardet’s proxy; demand the respect a woman of your standing deserves.” 

“Alright,” she says, uneasy and fidgeting with her fingers. 

“No. Tall and confident. C’mon, tell me off,” Vasco says. 

“I couldn’t do that! I love you!” She protests almost frantically. 

“Pretend the guards are your brother, then.” 

He watches as Green Blood stands tall. “My name is Elizabet De Sardet, sister of Loïc De Sardet, the legate of the Congregation of Merchants. I’m under orders to inspect your camp,” she says, voice brimming with confidence. 

Vasco applauds. “There you go! Now do that again when we get to the gate and they’ll let us right in.” 

Luckily the sailor is right: Green Blood is brimming with confidence and they’re let right in without issue. “You’re coming along on every mission with her,” he whispers to Vasco. 

“That goes without saying but not for the reasons you’re requesting it,” Vasco responds. 

It angers him what they discover. It was just what he feared. This is no ordinary training camp, but a ghost camp. Memories of his childhood flood back to him with renewed vigor. Night trainings, whippings and Hermann’s visits after dark. His fists are clenched and he’s almost shaking with anger. 

This wasn’t supposed to happen again. The camp he survived was shut down. Why are they doing this? 

It’ll be hours before the three of them are able to sneak back in under the cover of darkness but he’s so restless; so angry that he’s tempted to storm the camp now. To kill Rolf for daring to hurt these recruits the way the two of them were hurt. 

The sound of the sailor’s coat dropping to the ground surprises him and he looks over, wondering what the hell the man is up to. “Soldier like you learns hand-to-hand, yes?” 

“Obviously.” 

Vasco gestures with his hand. “Come, try to pin me.” 

They’re deep in the woods and the sailor wants to wrestle. Strange man. But he’ll indulge him, he supposes, and he starts to take off his armour and places his sword on the ground. 

“Don’t hurt each other,” Green Blood says. 

“It’s just a roll in the leaves, Tempest; nothing to worry about.” 

Admittedly the sailor lasts longer than he thought; he must have five stone on the man, but he’s nimble and skilled. Slippery in a way that shouldn’t surprise him, given how the man fights. Panting, he gets off of him and rolls onto his back. “Better?” Vasco asks him, patting his shoulder. 

“Made a decent showing in front of my student which is always a good thing,” he says. 

“We could pull our blades out if you’re looking for round two.” 

“I’m no fucking idiot, Vasco; I know you’d kick my ass. Allow me to keep some dignity,” he says, sitting up and brushing the leaves off his shirt and breeches. 

Green Blood looks baffled by the whole display. “Good way to let off some steam,” Vasco says. “And pass the time while we’re waiting for nightfall.” 

He must admit the sailor was smart to suggest it; the physical exertion is just enough of a distraction that he’s able to push the intrusive thoughts from his mind. For a time, anyway. 

In an effort to avoid lighting a fire they subside on salt pork and berries Green Blood foraged for in the woods. They eat in silence but he finds he has no appetite. “You’ll need your strength for what’s to come,” she says. Reluctantly, he admits she’s right and so he chokes down the rest of his dinner for the sake of the recruits in that damned camp. 

That night they sneak back in. The sight of the torture chamber disgusts but doesn’t surprise him after what her and Vasco told him about Wilhem’s testimony. “Oh Kurt, and I thought discipline in the Nauts was bad... this is awful,” Vasco says. 

They don’t even bother to clean the blood of the floor of the room. The absolute shamelessness of it. 

“We need to stop this,” Green Blood whispers. “These are just kids.” She takes a sheet off the wall. “Wilhem is on this list. We have to save him.” 

“They’ll kill him. We can’t let that boy die for helping us,” he says. The three of them rush to the training circle, confronting the lieutenant. 

“How dare you?” Elizabet seethes. “To do this to _children_? Where is your sense of decency? You have no honour.” 

In this moment he’s glad it’s Elizabet who is talking. Right now all he can see are the lieutenants who tortured him as a child. He feels small and powerless once more. 

The woman pulls out her sword, refusing to surrender. “Kurt, you want to handle this or shall we step in?” Vasco calls to him. 

This camp is guard business, and the execution of this lieutenant is his responsibility. “I’ve got this,” he says. 

It’s not a long fight and he makes sure the death is a quick one. A mercy Reiner never had. A mercy so many of those he trained with never had. But he’s not Hermann or Rolf or that lieutenant. He has honour. He won’t make this woman suffer. “Drop your swords, recruits,” he orders, and is relieved when they do so. 

Having a healer with them turns out to be important. Wilhem survives, thanks to their intervention, but he is wounded and sitting on the ground, bracing his chest with his arm. Green Blood approaches him. “I can heal some of your injuries and I have a potion for you. Do I have your consent to look you over?” 

Wilhem looks confused by her question and nods. It makes his heart ache to think that this is probably the first time the boy has ever been asked for permission to be touched. Green Blood helps him remove his doublet and casts a series of spells on him and hands him a potion. 

“I’ve done what I can for your cracked ribs and concussion, but you are going to need to rest.” She pauses, and then grabs her bag, going through it, and hands him two more potions. “Take one every twelve hours. It will help you recover more quickly.”

“Thanks Green Blood,” he says to her. “I’m glad to have you here. For many reasons, not just because of your fancy healing hands.” 

“You’re my friend. I’m happy to be able to help.” 

Everything they’ve seen shakes Green Blood up and the confidence Vasco built up in her disappears entirely when they are confronted with armed guards ordered to attack by Rolf. 

“We saved Wilhem, please lower your weapons,” she pleads with them, sounding nothing like the representative she’s supposed to be. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Vasco rest a hand on her shoulder. 

That’s not going to convince them to stand down. He steps in. “Are you really going to obey this man?” Kurt asks them.

Green Blood finds her confidence once more when she speaks next. “Wilhem was being beaten to death on the order of this man,” she calls out, pointing at Rolf, “is this what you were promised when you were recruited?”

The strategy works and the recruits drop their weapons. “No. No. Honour and glory,” one of them says before they drop their guns and raise their arms in surrender.

“I’ve been looking forward to shutting your big mouth,” Rolf snarls at him, sword drawn. 

The other lieutenant rushes them, only to be dropped rather unceremoniously by a well-aimed shot of Vasco’s gun. “Not going to fight a man who tortures children fairly,” Vasco mutters under his breath. 

Vasco and Green Blood stand back and allow him to deal with Rolf. It’s with a heavy heart that he makes his final blow, taking Rolf’s life as the man looks up at him, mortally wounded and silently daring him to do it. He doesn’t say anything to the man; there’s nothing to be said.

What a damn waste. Never did he want anyone else to survive what he did and here is a camp full of kids who have been traumatized by what they’ve been taught and forced to do to one another. Rolf was a survivor, just as he is, but devoted his life to working alongside Hermann. Their abuser. “Shit,” he whispers to himself and Green Blood wraps her arms around him. No words are exchanged between them and when they break apart Vasco gives him a pat on the shoulder. 

“We’re here. However you need us,” the captain tells him. 

Something isn’t right here, he thinks after they leave the camp. The revival of ghost camps? Mysterious merchandise being smuggled? He doesn’t like it. Not one bit.

“I thought the days of ghost camps were behind us,” he says once they’re back at camp and sitting around the fire. 

“I’m sorry, Kurt. I’m glad we were able to help those kids. They weren’t much older than we were when you started training us...” 

“When I get back I’m going to speak to Sieglinde about this. I don’t like what we saw in there and the documents we found are troubling.” 

He thinks back to what Vasco said the other day about something being wrong within the guard. There’s no denying it any longer. Why would they be training assassins? What is Torsten up to? 

Green Blood sits with him after Vasco goes to bed. “I’m sorry. For all you endured,” she says. Her way of letting him know she knows he survived a camp just like this one. 

“How did you figure it out?” 

“Your expression. Kurt, you look so haunted. I knew this had to be personal. If you want to talk about it...” 

“You survived a beating. You know a little of what it is like. To be pummelled by someone you’re supposed to trust. How that changes you. Makes you afraid. Compliant.” 

That day when she limped out of the prince’s sitting room, blood dripping down from her split lip, he thought of the camp. How those charged with protecting their recruits beat the shit out of them. Whipped them. Tortured them. All in the name of making them better soldiers. Soldiers unwilling to question their orders. Beat someone enough and they won’t ask any more questions. 

“But it wasn’t like that, Kurt. There’s no comparison. What you survived...” 

“You know about the the scars on my back,” he says. 

“They don’t pain you anymore, do they?”

Several years ago he told her he no longer needed the salve she made for him; that it had done its job and loosened up the tight scar tissue on his back. Something he never dared to hope for when he was lying on his belly recovering all those years ago. 

“Not anymore. Just ugly as sin is all.” 

She rests her hand on his knee. “Kurt, no. All they mean is that you survived. The circumstances behind them are awful and I’m so fucking sorry you went through all that. But they tried to break you and they didn’t. They failed and you won. You are good and you are honourable and you are the best damned Master of Arms I ever could have.” 

Her words touch him. But he wonders if she’s not entirely correct. She doesn’t know the whole story. That the worst of his scars are invisible. But he can’t tell her. That’s not her burden to bear. Not when she’s so often struggling with her own burdens. “Thanks Green Blood,” he says instead. 

Before leaving for her and Vasco’s tent she pulls him into a long hug. “You should be proud of the man you are. I’m proud to know you.” 

Kind words. But how can someone who did what he did to survive his own years at the ghost camp be proud of who they are? If she knew all that he did, would she still be proud to know him? 

“You’re a cold-hearted mercenary. Nothing more,” he tells himself. 

He pulls Vasco aside early the next morning before Green Blood wakes up. “I’ve got some things to look into. You need to watch her back,” he says. 

Vasco doesn’t say anything and merely nods. 

“Don’t tell anyone else. Do your best to avoid being sent out on the road with Lord De Sardet. Find a reason - any reason to stay by her side.” 

“Believe me, I have no desire to go out on missions with him after last time,” Vasco says. 

It disgusted him, what Lord De Sardet did to Siora and Vasco. Worse was that he had to keep his mouth shut. They don’t pay him for his thoughts, after all. 

But standing back and watching as Lord De Sardet put their lives in danger felt awful. Dishonourable. It should have been him and Petrus taking that risk by Lord De Sardet’s side. None of them would have been put to death over it. 

“You remember what I told you the other day?” 

“Wasn’t it ‘there’s no one you wouldn’t gut to protect her’?” 

Vasco nods. “I meant it. I’ll keep her safe.” 

“Good. Must admit you’re not the sort I thought she’d end up with. She always found Nauts attractive but I thought she’d end up with someone... more like her.” 

Gentle and nervous; not blunt and dashing. 

“We balance one another. Having someone around to call out the bullshit she’d otherwise tolerate has its uses. And occasionally I’m not a complete and utter arse, thanks to her. You want a horse, by the way?” He stares at Vasco. Did the sailor hit his head last night? 

“Elizabet bought a horse just in case she needed to rush to San Matheus. She dislikes riding; I rode once, which was one time too many, and we’re still figuring out what to do with the creature,” Vasco explains. 

That... makes a shocking amount of sense, actually. And something he should have realized she would do. “Must not have been cheap. If you didn’t know she loved you before then, you know now,” he says. “I couldn’t accept such a gift from you two; not that I have much interest in keeping a horse, anyway.” 

Vasco frowns. “She never actually told me how much she spent. Knew it would have been expensive but thought it would be rude to ask.” 

“More than our annual salaries combined, most likely. Green Blood is a wealthy woman - not nearly as wealthy as the d’Orsay family mind you, but a horse here on the island is still a hefty sum, even for her. She really loves you, Sailor.” 

“Aye, she does. Shit. Didn’t realize it would be that much. Should I suggest we sell the horse?” 

Kurt shakes his head. “She’ll want to give it to someone as a gift. Someone who will take care of it. While she may not like riding, never have I known anyone with a heart like hers. By the way, she’s fond of cats.” 

He needs to talk about something lighter. Something that’s not ghost camps and corruption and his concerns about Green Blood’s safety. 

Vasco laughs. “I’m well aware. The Sea Horse’s mouser, Philbert, grew quite attached to her. Ended up sleeping in bed with us. Damn cat is spoiled rotten now and the ship’ll need a second mouser, unless they wish to be overrun by rodents.” 

The sailor’s willingness to indulge him and deflect is something he’s grateful for. 

“You liked it.” 

“I did not,” Vasco says, sounding aghast. 

“You did,” he insists. “Because the cat made her happy. And I’ve noticed you have a real secret soft spot when it comes to her.” 

“You got me,” Vasco grumbles. “I do like cats. Quite a bit. Philbert is a clever animal. But they’ve got a job to do. Elizabet sees them as companions more than working animals. Guess I’ll just have to get used to a cat sleeping in our bed,” he says, looking very much the sight of a man resigned to his fate. 

“Get her a cat and you’ll have her heart forever. Though at this point I suspect you do anyway. But, back to our original topic of discussion - stay by her side. She needs protecting and I can’t always be there with her.” 

He realizes he’s not even hiding the fact that he favours her over his other two charges. Elizabet is skilled in combat but hasn’t had the same amount of practice in the field as Lord De Sardet has in recent months. This makes her vulnerable. 

“I will. De Sardet hates me; surely he won’t want my company.” 

Vasco was wrong, though. As soon as the three of them return to New Sérène, Lord De Sardet insists the entire team go out into the bush to rescue a team of missing scientists; a mission given by Governor Burhan of Hikmet. 

“I’d be happy to come along, Sir,” he says. “But I have concerns about Green Blood’s security. I am in charge of her security too, as you are aware. Constantin has a team but she has no one to watch over her. Vasco is a skilled combatant - why don’t we task him with the job of guarding her while I’m out with you?” 

Meeting his eye, Vasco gives him a grateful look. 

“My sister works for Constantin. That means his guards will also protect her. And I’m not convinced our Naut here won’t be working a bit of overtime, as it were. You work for me, Naut.” 

“ _With_ ,” Vasco shoots back. 

Siora enters the room during the argument. “We need to go to my village and stop the impending battle!”

“My intelligence says it’s not to happen immediately so it cannot take priority over rescuing the scientists. We will go afterwards,” Lord De Sardet says. 

Her face falls. “Please don’t make me rescue the lions we are at war with.” 

“I’m sorry but I’ve determined the strategy that will be most advantageous.” 

“To whom?” Vasco says. “Yourself and your cousin? Give me leave to help Siora, then! Elizabet would go with us. She may not be a legate but she is a member of the royal family. Allow her to act in your stead. Please.” 

He fears he’s going to have to physically separate Vasco and Lord De Sardet imminently. “I don’t think I’m going to do that. You see, that weakens my position and my power. My sister has made clear that she is unsuited to politics. She’s slept around. Her hobbies are unbecoming of a person of her standing. She’s... chosen to associate with you,” Lord De Sardet says, looking at Vasco as if he were a cockroach. “I love her but she makes poor decisions. So I cannot allow her to botch such an important diplomatic exercise.” 

The absolute loathing in his eyes and the twitch of a vein in his forehead when he looks at Lord De Sardet tells him that the captain is about to lose his temper. Something he’s never actually seen. From what he can tell, Vasco is a man with a sharp tongue and willing to openly express his opinion bluntly regardless of where they are and who they’re talking to, but isn’t inclined towards violent expressions of temper. 

“You don’t love her!” Vasco says angrily. “You love her mask. A person who has not and will never exist. If you loved her you would accept her for who she is. She’s a kind, gentle, and intelligent woman, and all she wants is to help heal people. You have power, De Sardet. You could ensure she receives the training she so desperately wants. But you don’t. Because you don’t understand her and you never will.” 

Unfortunately at this moment Elizabet comes home to find an increasingly ugly argument in the sitting room. “What is going on here?” She cries. 

She has always disliked it when people yell. It frightens her; he learned early on in her training that he can’t raise his voice with her. 

Vasco looks ashamed that she’s seen him in the midst of ranting at her brother. 

“Your Naut is behaving boorishly,” Lord De Sardet says. “I will be taking him with me on my next mission.” 

Elizabet’s face falls; she’s still angry over how their mission in San Matheus went and clearly isn’t comfortable with Vasco going. “I’d hoped you would let him stay here. There are tasks that I could use assistance with and I trust him.” 

“I also have some things I could use your sister’s help with,” Vasco adds with gritted teeth and forced politeness, unable to meet Lord De Sardet’s eyes. 

“I need all the help I can get so he’s coming along. You’ll have to make do without him, Ellie.” 

He sees Green Blood’s face fall and that she’s begun to breathe rapidly. Signs of a panic attack. Vasco sees this and is immediately at her side, wrapping an arm around her and guiding her to the couch. She breaks into wracking sobs as Vasco holds her, whispering in her ear. 

Lord De Sardet rolls his eyes. “She always was good at crying for attention.” 

Vasco’s head snaps up. “Elizabet has anxiety, you absolutely pathetic, miserable fuck.” The captain doesn’t raise his voice this time but his tone is ice cold and would be enough to shame most. But Lord De Sardet is another sort entirely and is entirely unaffected by Vasco’s admonishment. 

It’s been awhile since he’s been witness to an attack this severe. Years, perhaps - Green Blood has mostly learned how to wear a mask of calm to hide how she is truly feeling in public. He sits on the other side of her and rubs her back as Vasco holds her. 

Siora rushes out of the room and returns a few minutes later with a potion, glaring at Lord De Sardet while she walks past him. “My people brew this to help calm nerves. This will make you feel better.” Vasco takes it from her with a nod of thanks and coaxes her to drink it. 

All this time Lord De Sardet stands awkwardly in the middle of the room. Finally, the potion takes effect and her hyperventilating stops, but Vasco still does not let go of her. 

Green Blood lifts her head, revealing her swollen, blotchy, tear-stained face; her eyelids and brows dotted with broken blood vessels. When she speaks, it is directly to her brother. “Vasco stays with me. Siora stays with me. We will go to her village in the morning. I am not asking you, Loïc, I am telling you,” she says calmly but firmly. 

That she can be so calm after a panic attack amazes him but he supposes she does have a lifetime of experience dealing with them. 

“Ellie... you can’t tell me what to do.” 

“Then I resign. Effective immediately. And Vasco will come with me.” 

“I’ll come too,” Siora says quietly. “I’d like your help.” 

“Dammit Ellie. You’re using your... tears to manipulate me.” He notices Lord De Sardet looks genuinely nervous for the first time during this unpleasantness. “You know I need your help.” 

“Then you will do as I’ve said and I will rescind my resignation,” she says calmly. “Vasco and Siora will not travel with you - ever, unless I’m coming along to act as a guard. You’ve shown you cannot be trusted to see to their safety.” 

Siora briefly looks surprised by this development but also relieved. 

“You’re hardly in a position to give me demands. Where will you go?” 

“None of your damn business. Love, my brother is showing himself to be unreasonable. Shall the three of us get a room for the night?” They stand up and Siora begins to follow them. 

“Fine!” he shouts - a rarity for a man who prefers to be calmly intimidating. Green Blood does not flinch; she must have braced herself for this show of temper. “But know that they get no say in how I deal with matters concerning _their_ people because they’ve declined to join me. And I can’t be putting my little Ellie in danger, can I? I need to go meet with our cousin. Goodnight, dear Ellie,” Lord De Sardet says, turning around and leaving the apartment without another word. 

Vasco and Siora look uncomfortable with Lord De Sardet’s proclamation, just as she does. “I think I made a mistake. I’m sorry,” she says. 

“He would do what he wanted anyway. He doesn’t give a shit about us. Our best strategy is to try to make it known to our respective peoples that Elizabet here is the one who has the best chance at securing a positive outcome with any concerns they approach the Congregation with. Let him deal with the cities,” Vasco says. “None of what he said is a surprise. We’ve won tonight; we should all be pleased and tomorrow the three of us will go and try to stop a war.” 

“Not sure how many times you’ll be able to threaten to resign to gain concessions, Green Blood,” he warns her. 

She looks straight at him. “It wasn’t a threat. It was a promise. Loïc is an unkind man but he has a soft spot for me. He doesn’t understand me but he likes being the protective sibling. It’s part of his identity. I tolerate it because when he’s particularly horrid I can threaten to take that part of his identity away from him. Which means I am now able to protect my lover and my friend.” 

It is at this moment he realizes that Green Blood is more cunning than anyone thinks. She played Lord De Sardet like a fiddle and he will never know it.


	16. The Battle of Red Spears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Siora, Vasco and Elizabet rush off to try to stop a battle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: loss of parent.

Not once did Elizabet consider that they’d fail. That they’d be too late. But at least Siora was able to rescue Eseld. 

A rather small comfort as they stand in a sea of corpses. “I’ve never seen so many dead in one place before,” she whispers to Vasco. 

“Neither have I,” he responds, sounding deeply troubled. 

Siora has gone off to heal the few survivors that have treatable injuries. Something she does as well, with Vasco’s help. “I’m no healer - not like you, but I can bandage a wound and hand out potions,” he says. 

Six people. She was able to save six. It feels so small and insignificant when they’re surrounded by so many bodies. “Some of these people are still children. They shouldn’t have been here.” 

“They wanted to defend their home,” Vasco says. “A damn shame. They had their whole lives ahead of them.” 

“I wish I could have done more.” 

Vasco takes her hand. “Those people you saved will return home. They’ll be with their families, their lovers and their friends. That’s because of you. That’s six fewer people who will be mourned. Do not dismiss the impact you had today, Tempest.” 

They find Siora attacking a young soldier about the whereabouts of her mother. “Siora, please stop! That man had nothing to do with what happened here. He’s just trying to put food on his table.” 

The vines around the man retreat back into the ground and Elizabet breathes a sigh of relief. “They took her. The camp is nearby.” Siora looks over at her, desperation in her eyes. “Can we go rescue my mother?” 

“Of course. You need not even ask.” 

At the camp, they’re only allowed in because she slips the guard at the front a bag of coin. A reminder that she has no political title and no power. It is her brother who opens doors, not her. 

When she asks that _Mal_ Bladnid’s body be released, the captain laughs. Laughs. “That body is being sent back to Hikmet for experimentation,” the captain says, looking gleeful at Siora’s horrified expression. 

“I’d like to wipe the smile off his smug face,” Vasco growls once they’re outside his office. 

“We must break in and take her body! Elizabet, please!” 

“Siora, this is a Coin Guard camp. Everyone here is a capable combatant. There’s no way we’d survive. We must find another way.” 

“Didn’t the doctor say something about the captain being a traitor? Blackmail tends to make people more cooperative...” Vasco muses. 

“I have no qualms about blackmailing a traitor,” she says, “but we must wait until it’s dark to sneak in and go through his files.” 

Once the sun has set the three of them sneak in and find a locked chest. “Anything incriminating will be in there, but we don’t have a key,” she says. “We’ll have to find one.” 

“Not necessarily,” Vasco says, pulling out a lock pick. “That lock is old and not particularly good.” He fiddles with the lock and it opens with a click. “Apparently the man wasn’t smart enough to use a good lock to hide his incriminating files.” 

Quickly, she grabs the files from the chest and confirms they have the information they’ll need. “We should go now,” she whispers. “First thing in the morning we’ll make the exchange - these papers for your mother’s body.”

“Thank you both,” Siora says. 

“So, did you learn how to do that in your classes on the island or was that a hobby you took up on your own time?” She asks Vasco once they’ve returned to their camp just outside the outpost. Siora has retreated to her tent, asking for privacy to mourn her loss so it’s just the two of them. 

“Taught myself how to do it.” 

“Why?” 

“It’s a surprisingly practical skill for a captain,” he says. When she looks baffled, he elaborates, “if someone is caught smuggling I need to know what’s in the crates or chests and frequently they are locked. In an emergency we might need to make use of cargo - potions, usually. Obviously we pay a premium for what we use and that provision is written into our contracts. I’ve never had to do either, but I did have to make my way through a locked door to get to a noble passenger who had not responded to our inquiries for several days. Turns out he’d died in his sleep at one point. That was... unfortunate.” 

“Well, you’re on lock picking duty if the need ever arises again,” she says. “It’s not a skill I ever picked up.”

“You mean the noble Lady De Sardet never had to pick a lock to escape from her chambers?” 

“I climbed out the window. Far more fun that way,” she says, laughing at Vasco’s bemused expression. “I’ll have you know I’m quite graceful and can easily make my way out a window.” 

***

Siora sits, staring at the fire the next evening. Looking, but not seeing. Nervously, Elizabet approaches her. “I wondered if, perhaps, my company would be welcomed? If you’d rather be alone, I would leave you to your thoughts.” 

“I would like to have company,” Siora responds and Elizabet sits down next to her. 

“I’m sorry we were unable to make it in time,” she says. 

“You tried. That is what is important. And you helped me get _Màtir’s_ body back. It was kind of you, to find what you needed to convince him to release her to me. I wonder if she’d still be alive if I were by her side. I feel responsible for her death.” 

Elizabet understands that sort of hurt. It’s painfully familiar. “I lost my own mother recently. She was sick with the malichor. My brother and I were forced to leave her behind as she was dying. I cannot help but feel guilty for leaving her in such a state.” Especially when she could have helped by brewing potions and trying to heal what she could. At the very least her death might have been less painful with her by Mother’s side. 

“I am sorry about your mother. I feel the same guilt. I should have been here.” 

“And I am sorry about yours,” Elizabet says. “She sent you off to find help - do not blame yourself. There... was nothing either of us could do for our mothers. They made their decisions. In the morning, we will return to your village and ensure she is returned to the earth.” 

Siora looks upset then, as if she has realized something. “There are mind shakers there. Claiming _Màtir_ made a promise carved into stone. I do not think they would allow me to bury her according to my people’s traditions.” 

Thinking to what Vasco told her about how Aloysius reacted to Loïc’s face, she has an idea. “Oh, that’s easy enough to get by. I think, if I sit down with them and act as if I’m terribly interested in what they have to say, they’ll be so distracted that they will not notice you and your sister bringing your mother to her resting place. Assuming I’m dressed in your clothing and not my own, they’ll assume I’m a resident of your village. Vasco would walk with you and stand guard, if you like.” 

She will not subject him to the company of any missionaries. Not after what happened to him in San Matheus. 

“But then you have to listen to them speak,” Siora says, frowning. 

“Oh, I’ve sat through far more sleep-inducing lectures in my life. Back in Sérène, there was a man in my uncle’s court named Lord Dejean. Very old - the running joke was that he’d live forever. Fond of speaking to hear himself talk, but he would go on tangents so whenever he opened his mouth, his conversation partner could expect a very long lecture. And he wasn’t a good speaker, either; he just droned on in the same tone of voice. Whatever they have to say to me cannot be worse than that,” she says. 

“It is very kind of you to offer,” Siora says. “Getting _Màtir_ returned to the earth now will help Eseld and I.” 

“It will allow for some closure and give you two a chance to grieve together,” Elizabet says. 

“Have you heard anything about your own mother?” 

Elizabet shakes her head. “It is unlikely we will for some time. Mother had been given no more than two months around the time that we left so I doubt she was still alive by the time we arrived here. What is difficult is not getting that closure. No funeral, no confirmation of when she passed. I’m struggling with it, to be honest with you.” 

“What if you did a service here?” 

“I couldn’t. Not until we received confirmation. I talk to Mother sometimes. When I’m feeling scared or particularly sad. It helps, to imagine how she would have responded. I’m not sure if you would find that helpful but it has been a comfort to me,” Elizabet says. 

“It is a good idea. I did not know when I said goodbye to _Màtir_ before leaving to seek the aid of the _Lugeid Blau_ that it would be our last goodbye. There are things I’d like to tell her,” Siora says. 

Elizabet rests a hand on Siora’s knee. “I told Mother about Vasco. I wish she could have met him. I hope that, wherever she is now, she is happy for me.”

“What would she have thought of him?” 

“She’d have been a bit baffled at first,” Elizabet says with a laugh. “But she’d see how he treats me. He’s very sweet, you know - though it’s well hidden. She’d like him for that, even if he’s not necessarily the sort of partner she imagined me with.” 

“My _Màtir_ will never know my _minundhanem_ when I find them,” Siora says, wiping her eyes. Elizabet hands her a handkerchief. “Nor will my _Tad_ know them.” 

“I’m sorry. It - isn’t easy to know that. Eseld loves you very much, and one day she will get to meet the person you fall in love with.” 

“Loïc doesn’t like your _minundhanem_ very much,” Siora observes. 

“No. But Kurt seems to like him well enough. And Constantin. That’s something, at least,” Elizabet says, feeling desperately sad by the reminder that Loïc will never accept the man she loves or the choices she’s made. 

“Kurt is not your blood but he is your brother by choice. That is a strong bond. I think I will go to bed now - thank you for talking.”

Siora stands and heads to her tent, leaving her alone by the fire with her thoughts. For years now, Kurt has been by their side, training them and protecting them. He’s become a friend. But, this is the first that she’s considered the idea that he’s family. 

She has wished for awhile that Loïc would be more like Kurt. Honourable, moral, and thoughtful. A hopeless wish, and perhaps a misplaced one. Kurt has always been good to her. Why waste time on wishes when she can acknowledge that Kurt is a brother, just as much as Loïc is? 

***

Vasco is pleased with the idea the next morning. “You and Siora look as if you could be sisters. Your builds are similar, though she is taller than you. Siora, would you be willing to lend Elizabet an outfit?”

“We discussed dressing me in her clothes last night so we are a step ahead of you. What will we do about my accent?” She sounds noble, which would sow doubt. 

“We’ve got a bit of walking this morning, we’ll have you practice Siora’s accent.”

“You’ll need to wear your hair down,” Vasco says once they’re in Siora’s home and getting her dressed. “The Natives don’t wear that style.” 

“Is my accent good?” She asks, trying her best to imitate Siora’s accent. 

“Won’t stand up to close inspection but those missionaries will be so pleased to have someone listen to them that it won’t matter. Stay quiet and nod your head, Tempest.” 

“I will come get you once we’ve buried _Màtir_ ,” Siora says. 

“You are now under the watchful eye of the Enlightened; hope your underwear is clean,” Vasco says sarcastically as the three of them leave Siora’s home. 

“Be safe. I’m sorry I cannot be of more help in burying your mother, Siora.”

“This is... more helpful than anything I can imagine. Thank you, _Carants_.” 

It turns out all of the worrying about her accent was pointless. All she has to do was show up outside her tent, and the three missionaries usher her inside, pour her tea and began a very well-rehearsed sermon. 

All she needs to do is nod and smile at the appropriate parts. 

She’s not sure exactly how long she’s been listening to them talk - several hours at least by the time Siora shows up. “Oh, would your friend like to chat, as well?” One of the missionaries asks. 

‘Chat’, as if she’s said a single word this afternoon. 

“Maybe another day. We need to begin preparing dinner for our families,” Siora says, saving her from having to answer in her awful imitation of a Native accent. 

Elizabet stands up. “ _Kwa awelam seg_ ,” she says, using the little _Yecht Fradí_ she knows and taking off with a wave. 

“Thank you. Because of you, we were able to bury my mother,” Siora whispers. “We do need to practice your pronunciation of my tongue; it is... not good.” 

“Luckily I doubt the missionaries would have noticed. I’d like to learn _Yecht Fradí_ if you are willing to teach me.” 

Vasco is standing outside Siora’s home. “So, can you extol to me the virtues of the Enlightened? Am I to be accused of heresy?” 

“It all started to run together by the end, to be honest with you,” she says. “I didn’t say a single word to them until Siora arrived.”

“So they talked at you and not with you?” Vasco asks with a derisive snort. 

“Made my job easier,” Elizabet says, shrugging. 

They’ll head back to New Sérène tomorrow. Back to a life of organizing paperwork and taking notes in meetings. Boring. Safe. 

“You know, it won’t be a terrible thing to return. I like the hot water that comes straight from the tap,” Vasco says. 

She smirks at him. “You’ve found something from noble life that you enjoy?” 

“One thing,” he says before pausing and amending his words. “Two, actually. I enjoy you a fair bit.” 

“And here I thought I was just helping you pass the time on land,” she teases. 

“There are worse uses of my time.” 

“I do endeavour to be a worthy use of time,” she whispers, a subtle promise in her voice that Vasco catches from the grin on his face. 

“Be careful, both of you,” she says before her and Vasco retire to bed that night. “I’ll do my best to keep you both safe, but I cannot guarantee your safety. Something that worries me greatly.” 

It makes her sick, the thought that she has to defend Siora and Vasco from someone who is supposed to be her family. 

“It will be fine, Tempest,” Vasco says. An attempt to reassure her. But she knows he doesn’t believe his own words.


	17. Reunions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elizabet and Loïc are back in New Sérène and the conflict continues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: abusive behaviour and a panic attack.

_“One day I shall call you husband,” he whispers into the night._

_“You know that’s not possible. Why dream such a thing? Father would never allow it,” Constantin says bitterly. “I cannot take it any longer. I’ll never be the son he wants!”_

_“What if he got the son he desires from someone else?”_

_Constantin scoffs. “De Courcillon would hardly reveal Father’s bastards to me! That’s a stupid plan.”_

_“No, Darling. Me. I’ll become his son. Everything he wants. And then, when he dies, you’ll be the prince and I’ll be by your side. As the leader of the Congregation you can marry whomever you choose,” he whispers, allowing a shred of hope to shine in his voice. “That would take the pressure off you too.”_

_“Why do that? Why subject yourself to his lessons? His cruelty?”_

_“Because I love you more than I loathe him. Because I want to be your husband.”_

_Just like in the stories Ellie loves. The two lovers marrying and living happily ever after._

_The next morning he goes and volunteers himself. With a nervous gulp, he knocks on Uncle Adrien’s sitting room door. “Enter,” a cold voice rings out from inside._

_He enters, standing tall. “Loïc,” Uncle Adrien greets him._

_He bows in response. “Good day, Uncle Adrien. I have an inquiry if you have a moment.” Uncle Adrien gestures to the chair beside him and he sits, noting with pride that he’s finally tall enough for his feet to touch the ground in the chairs._

_“And what is your inquiry?”_

_“I’d like to learn from you. About ruling and politics. I’m interested in learning everything you’re willing to share with me.”_

_“And why the sudden interest?” Uncle Adrien asks, taking a sip of his coffee._

_“I saw an opportunity.”_

_“By which, you mean that my son is hopeless in such matters. A constant disappointment with the attention span of a golden retriever and you wish to take his place.”_

_“Never to take his place, Uncle. He is your heir,” he says quickly._

_Uncle Adrien considers for a moment. “You are loyal to him.” Loïc nods. “He trusts you.” Loïc nods again. “We’ll start with three days a week. I will write you a note excusing you from your afternoon lessons and you will learn from me. Should you show promise, perhaps further opportunities will come to you.”_

_“Thank you, Uncle Adrien,” he says gratefully, grinning widely._

_“Lesson one: never show how you are truly feeling in public,” his uncle says sharply._

_His smile falters. “Of course, Uncle. I will be sure to remember that.”_

“De Sardet?” 

The botanist’s voice pulls him out of his memory. A memory from the days when he was the dreamer instead of Constantin. Before cold pragmatism took over and Constantin became the dreamer. 

“Yes?” 

“Thank you for rescuing my colleagues. And thank you for doing it without hurting anyone.” 

It was simply the easiest way to free them. Had going in with his sword drawn been the better, more advantageous method, he would have. 

“I saw an opportunity. I expect your colleagues and yourself will be more careful in the future. I am not generous with my time,” he responds. 

“Nor would I expect it. I must admit I’m surprised by the company you keep,” Aphra says. 

“Bishop Petrus is a man I’ve known from childhood. Kurt is my Master of Arms. Back in New Sérène there is a Native woman assisting us... and a Naut.” He does not bother hiding his disgust when referencing the Naut. 

“A varied group.” 

“My sister is also in New Sérène. She works as my cousin’s assistant.” 

He steps in the wrong place and his foot sinks in the bog. With a hard tug it comes free but the sole of his boot is covered with mud. “This landscape is wretched,” he grumbles. 

“It is rather unpleasant, my child. I’ve been meaning to ask about Elizabet. I did not get the pleasure of speaking with her extensively before leaving. Is she enjoying New Sérène?” Petrus asks. 

“I believe she is, though she has made some questionable choices.” He turns to Aphra. “My sister lacks skill in politics. As a result, she was rarely seen at court.” 

“Her skills and interests would be a curiosity to our botanist here,” Kurt says. “I imagine she would not object to you divulging her secret.” 

“They are secret for a reason,” he admonishes Kurt. 

“I would also be curious,” Petrus says. “It is important to understand every strength at our disposal.” 

He sighs. “My sister has healing magic. Moderately useful during spars. She has in her head that she’s going to be a doctor and has spent years reading textbooks and dissecting any animal corpse she can obtain from the kitchen staff. A morbid hobby.” His cheek itches and he slaps and kills a mosquito, cursing under his breath. 

“I’ll speak with her if I have the opportunity to meet her. Why do you disdain her interests? Healing is a valuable skill,” Aphra says. 

“Because we are from the Congregation of Merchants. Our nobles go into business, not medicine,” he responds, just barely able to disguise his irritation at the question. 

***

His sister, the Naut and the Native princess return the day after he returns to the apartment with Aphra, Kurt and Petrus. He gestures to Aphra. “Our latest ally, Aphra. She’s a botanist and was tasked with assisting in my hunt for the cure. This is the Naut and the Native I was telling you about. And my sister, Ellie.”   
  
“It’s Elizabet, actually,” his sister says, extending her hand and shaking Aphra’s.   
  
“And apparently I no longer have a name,” the Naut quips. “It’s Captain Vasco.” The man thinks he’s so clever; surely Aphra will find it as infuriating as he does.  
  
“Siora, daughter of Bladnid, daughter of Meb,” Siora says, looking displeased to be in the same room as Aphra. She leaves quickly.   
  
“Can I speak with you alone, Ellie? I’d like a summary of how your… chore went.” Her Naut steps closer to her and she whispers something to him that he cannot hear. He responds just as quietly. The Naut gives her a kiss and departs upstairs for their quarters.   
  
He goes into the liquor cabinet and pulls out a bottle of whiskey, pouring her a glass. Then he pours himself a glass of wine. “Your fondness for whiskey never made much sense to me.”   
  
“It’s simple: I have taste,” she says; a comment far sharper than what usually comes out of her mouth.   
  
“Don’t be like that, Ellie. Your Naut has rubbed off on you and it’s extremely unflattering,” he says, taking a sip of his wine.   
  
Ellie sips her own drink. “It’s _Captain_ Vasco.”   
  
Can you really be a captain without a ship? He doubts it, but he isn’t here to argue semantics about the Naut she’s fucking. “Were you able to stop the conflict?”   
  
“No. They’d already left by the time we arrived. Your intel was wrong, apparently. We managed to retrieve _Mal_ Bladnid’s body from the Bridge, and I assisted Siora in getting her buried.”  
  
“Unnecessary of you, to bury a woman you had never even met.” 

Loïc is lashing out in grief; they never got to bury their own mother and that fact hurts him. Though he would never admit it to anyone.  
  
“I believe in basic decency,” she snaps, standing up. “I can’t do this now. Please leave me alone.”   
  
He stands up as well, grabbing her by the arm more roughly than he meant to. Her breath catches and she stills. “I wasn’t finished talking to you.” Ellie looks up at the stairs and he wonders if she’ll call for the Naut to fight her battles for her.   
  
“What more is there to talk about?” She asks softly as a mouse.   
  
“What happened between us? You used to be so well behaved. Now you talk back. You have aligned yourself with those below your station. Why have you sunk so low? I love you Ellie, which means you need to trust me to know what is best for you.” He speaks to her, trying to use the same concerned but disappointed tone Mother used to use on them.   
  
She grabs her drink and downs it in one gulp before sitting, stiffly, arms wrapped around herself. “Many things happened, brother. We’ve had this discussion before. We’re very different people and if you cannot respect those around us, especially the man I love, then I will keep my distance.”   
  
He scoffs. “You don’t know love. You find him attractive because he’s heavily tattooed and is a means for rebellion. You’ve known him what – seven months now? That’s hardly long enough to love someone. Talk to me when you’ve known someone for decades – just like Constantin and I. I’m growing tired of the games you play.”   
  
“What games?” She cries out. “I love him! He’s smart, romantic, brave and deeply kind. He protects those around him, including me. He loves me in return. I’m not asking you to like him. I’m asking you to accept that I love him. Brother, please, just let me choose my own way in life. Because I’ve chosen a life beside Vasco.”   
  
Ellie’s attitude is growing tiresome. “I have a name. Why do you not use it?”   
  
“Because you do not use mine. I am Elizabet. Not Ellie. Because you do not use Vasco’s. Or Siora’s.” She leaps up, and takes off up the stairs, almost sprinting, shutting the door to her quarters and locking it. He makes his way upstairs and listens, hearing the sound of her hyperventilating, revealing she’s in the midst of a panic attack. The deep voice of the Naut can also be heard, though what he’s saying cannot be made out. 

Ellie does tend to run away the moment she’s confronted with inconvenient facts.

***

Vasco holds her through the panic attack. “I’ll keep you safe. I promise,” Vasco murmurs in her ear. 

“You can’t promise that. Not when he put you in mortal danger,” she says. 

“We’ll protect each other, then. I trust you.” 

She wraps her arms around him, holding him tightly. “I trust you too.” 

There’s a knock on the door an hour later. “Who is it?” Vasco calls out. 

“Aphra. Did I get the wrong room?” 

“Depends. You looking to speak to ‘the Naut’ or Elizabet? Or are you looking for the jackass?” 

“Vasco,” she chides, without heat. 

A muffled laugh can be heard from the other side of the door. “I’m looking for Elizabet. May I come in?” 

“Come in,” she says. Aphra walks in, looking as if she feels very out of place. She sees the two of them cuddling on the bed and her eyes go wide. 

“De Sardet never mentioned that.” 

Elizabet gestures to a chair. “He wouldn’t. Loïc has a specific set of opinions that he does not hesitate to share. It has been made abundantly clear that I am the family embarrassment. A title I’m proud to have.” 

“Kurt mentioned you’re studying medicine,” Aphra says. “My focus is botany now, but I studied medicine for a time. I know how to brew potions; if you ever wanted to discuss such things...” 

“I’d like that very much,” she says immediately. 

“My parents are astronomers. They wanted me to go into astronomy. I know what it is to be the family pariah. I’m... sorry,” Aphra says, sounding uncomfortable and unable to meet her eye. 

“It’s only recently that people outside my family found out about my interests. They’re shameful I’m told. I’m sorry you know that same pain. And I hope your parents come around and see that botany is a valuable area of study,” she says, smiling at Aphra. 

“I... doubt I’ll ever see or speak to them again. I’ve made my peace with it.” 

“I suspect that is a choice I will eventually be forced to make as well,” she says quietly. “Be... careful.” 

She doesn’t have to elaborate any further. “I’m used to working alongside challenging people. It is no matter,” Aphra says. 

“Not this challenging. To get what you want out of him, you must position it as a benefit to him. Keep that in mind.”

“And you’ll want to practice holding your tongue,” Vasco adds. 

“I aimed a gun at him when we first met. Somehow I doubt our working relationship will see any improvement,” Aphra says. 

Vasco bursts out laughing. “You aimed a gun at him? Why?”

“That’s not funny,” she whispers under her breath and Vasco whispers an apology to her. 

“I was hiding. I feared he was there to capture me.”

“He’ll get over it. Loïc can understand dire circumstances lead to mistakes and nobody was hurt.” And there is value in having a representative of the Bridge Alliance at his side, but she doesn’t say this. 

They chat for awhile about medicine and botany but when Elizabet yawns, Aphra stands and makes her way to the door. 

“I am glad we could chat; I’m sorry for interrupting your evening.” 

“You hardly interrupted; we were just talking and cuddling. Only reason we’re in here and not the sitting room is...” she trails off, not wanting to think more about Loïc’s disapproval. 

“Suspect the company is more enjoyable here, anyway. Have a good night, Elizabet.”

***  
  
Ellie is afraid of him. What has he done to make her fear him?   
  
He grabs the bottle of wine and pours himself another glass before heading out into the garden. Several minutes later the sound of footsteps tells him he is not alone. “Naut, I swear, if you say one word to me, I will split you open and show you your own insides,” he says in a low voice.   
  
“It is a good thing I am not the captain, then,” Bishop Petrus says lightly.   
  
“Apologies, Petrus,” he says, offering him the bottle when he sees that the bishop is carrying a wine glass of his own. He accepts it with a nod and pours himself a glass, sitting down beside him.   
  
“Your sister is not like us. I’m unsure what all you remember from my time in the Congregation, but even then, I knew this life was not for her.” He looks over at Petrus who takes a sip of his wine. “She was so quiet as a child. Nervous and prone to tears. To thrive in this world you must have a certain disposition. One that you have. I’m aware that she’s skilled in other areas – healing for instance. You’re the politician in the family; would it be such a terrible thing for her to be a doctor and live by Vasco’s side as she wants?”   
  
“And the scandal it would cause? She’s already caused scandal and brought shame to our family,” he retorts.   
  
“Has she, though? In your perception, perhaps, but I know little of the shameful events you think of. Until recently I knew very little about her. Here in New Sérène she’s widely regarded as a little odd, and there have been mutterings about her relationship, but such things hardly matter. To her at least. Let her do what makes her happy, my child. She’s a lovely woman with a kind and gentle heart.”   
  
“She’s weak.”   
  
“On the contrary, I would say she is quite strong. She has a nervous disposition that frequently gives her trouble, yet she soldiers on. She’s strong enough to be kind in a world that can frequently be cruel. And she has the strength to trust another with her love and affection and shows it publicly, knowing that most would disapprove. As for the captain… his love for her is true. That much is obvious to me. Few are lucky to love genuinely, so I would suggest at least masking your disapproval if you’re unwilling to provide your blessing.”   
  
Never did he think that Petrus, the man who had him break into the Mother Cardinal’s private party room and go through her smalls drawer would be urging him to be a warmer person. “Do you have any other nuggets of wisdom to throw at me?”   
  
“Consider that what benefits you and your cousin is not always the correct move to make in politics. Occasionally you should compromise.”   
  
He can’t hold back his laughter. “That won’t be happening.”   
  
“You remind me of me when I was your age,” Petrus says.   
  
The compliment warms him. Petrus is a clever man who excels in politics. He raises a glass to him. “You honour me.”   
  
Petrus gives him a sad look. “That was not a compliment, my child.” 


	18. Recovering an Artifact

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Loïc blows up the Cave of Saint Matheus, the team do their best to recover surviving artifacts.

Arelwin’s two children. He’s supposed to love and care for them both. But her son has been twisted in a manner only Adrien d’Orsay could accomplish. There’s nothing of his mother remaining, save for the resemblance. Elizabet, though – she’s all Arelwin. It takes awhile to see much of her adoptive mother at all in her, but it’s there. She’s a skilled dancer, just as her mother was, and she can be shrewd when it is called for. Generally when it comes to dealing with her twin brother.   
  
He can’t admit that Elizabet is his favourite; the idea of choosing between them makes him feel too guilty. But the next morning he sits with her and Vasco in the dining room. Loïc has apparently spent the night at the palace. 

“What have you been up to over the years? I recognize it has been many years since we last saw one another.” 

“Little of note. My brother is the politician. It was decided long ago that I was ill-suited for public life. Not something I disagree with, to be clear. It’s a relief,” she says, lifting her tea cup and taking a sip. 

He takes a sip of his own tea; it’s an odd blend that tastes of cinnamon. “From the Bridge Alliance. Doubt folks from Thélème would have ever had it,” Vasco explains. “It’s what I drink.” 

“And how does a Naut develop a taste for Bridge Alliance tea?” 

“By traveling. I’ve been all over the world and when I’m on shore leave I eat what the locals eat. Means I appreciate good food and drink,” Vasco says. “Your tea is terrible, by the way.” 

Petrus chuckles. “It is rather unfortunate, isn’t it? It is our wine that is worthy of discussion.” 

“While wine is not my preference, I can acknowledge that it is generally good,” Elizabet says and Vasco nods in agreement. 

“Do Nauts have their own cuisine?” 

“Of course we do,” Vasco says. “Lots of seafood, which I’m sure you’ll find shocking.” Vasco takes a bite of egg, chewing with a thoughtful look on his face. “There are advantages to my current predicament. Fresh food being one of them. Our ship rations can get rather... unpleasant, especially if we are delayed at sea. Means I have even more appreciation for the good food I eat while on leave.” 

“I grew fond of the food in Sérène during my years there. I missed it terribly once I returned to Thélème,” he says. “I am looking forward to exploring what New Sérène has to offer.” 

“I hope you do not find it trying, following around a bunch of young people,” Elizabet says with a bit of a laugh.   
  
“I’ve enjoyed the company of you all immensely. And, I’m pleased to say that I am still able to keep up with you all without too much trouble.”   
  
“You will keep my brother safe?”   
  
Not a question he was expecting. Not when her brother is unkind to her. It’s an inquiry that breaks his heart just a little, but he masks it with a smile. “That is one of my jobs and I will see that he is kept from harm.”   
  
“Good. There will be those who wish to see him killed. And I imagine that is a threat he will not take seriously.”   
  
Vasco has remained silent throughout this entire conversation. “I will be going with your brother to investigate tablets that have been found. I believe Aphra and Kurt will be coming along. Will the two of you and Siora join us?”   
  
She shakes her head. “I doubt it; if asked I will go, but my job is to assist Constantin. In practice, I spend a lot of time on my studies.” 

While she does not detail what her studies are, it was revealed to him that she wants to be a doctor. A fascinating career path, though one clearly unsuitable for a Congregation noble. Still, it suits her, from everything he’s seen so far.   
  
He turns to Vasco. “And you?”   
  
“Vasco will not be joining my brother unless I’m coming along,” Elizabet says firmly.   
  
He considers for a moment, recognizing that he’s treading on sensitive territory. “I’d been told you had orders to work alongside the legate. While what happened on your last mission with him was… unfortunate, your perspective is valuable and I’m sure that will not happen again.”   
  
“And I am not. Vasco works closely with me, and we have taken on tasks that the legate is uninterested in tackling. He need not travel with him to be working with him,” she says and the look she gives him makes it clear that no further questions on this matter will be tolerated.   
  
Elizabet is protective of her partner. Extremely protective. And Loïc has made his disapproval known. It is with a sinking feeling in his stomach that he recognizes that a confrontation between the twins may end up being inevitable.   
  
***  
  
He supposes it’s a small mercy that he did not have to witness the Cave of Saint Matheus blow up. That was a burden shared by Aphra and Kurt. Indeed, he was not even told it would be happening; he’d been sent back to camp to rest after injuring his ankle. At that moment he wished they had either Elizabet or Siora with them, but now… he’s grateful for that injury. Because he’s unsure he could endure witnessing such a tragic waste.   
  
“It’s for the best,” Loïc says, “revealing what was discovered there would cause so much strife in your nation. I’m helping your people.”   
  
It was not his decision to make. It was the Mother Cardinal’s. Still, he remains silent as the legate smoothly lies to her about what was discovered. He sits by the fire with a bottle of wine once they return to New Sérène.   
  
“May I join you?” He turns to see Elizabet holding a plater of bread, cheese and meat. “Vasco baked bread today – he’s very good at it. He would join us too, but you look so forlorn that I was unsure if his company would be welcomed or not.”   
  
“I think, if your partner would not object, I would prefer to speak only to you,” he says, and she nods. He takes a slice of bread and piles some meat and cheese on it.   
  
“I’ve never been religious,” she says. “I admire those who can have faith, but I never could. It’s strange being here, and hearing tales of almighty beings – it makes me question if I have been wrong my entire life. Does it bring you comfort, your faith?”   
  
He takes a bite, and nods in approval. “Vasco is a skilled baker – please pass along my compliments. It is a comfort, much of the time. Knowing that a being is watching over me; over all of us. That we’re all held accountable for our actions. It has not been the comfort it normally is these last few days.”   
  
“Loïc told me what he did. And why. He was wrong, and I’m angry with him. Big surprise, right?” she says, laughing, but the mirth does not reach her eyes; instead she looks terribly sad. “I think it should have been up to the Mother Cardinal to decide; that it’s important to ensure knowledge is shared, even if that knowledge might be scary or intimidating. I’m very sorry, and I cannot imagine how it must hurt you.”   
  
“He did what he thought was right,” he says, unable to meet her eye. “He meant well.”   
  
Elizabet shakes her head vigorously. “He did not. In his mind, if your nation was dealing with any strife, that weakens them and potentially causes issues for the Congregation, given our alliance. He did not want to risk there being spillover. It wasn’t done for the sake of your people, but for his. Father Petrus, I recognize that it is him you work closely with, given your position, but please do not feel the need to defend his actions. In this instance they were wrong and I’ve told him as such.”   
  
He can’t respond, for fear of showing emotion he does not want her to see.   
  
“I spoke with Aphra. She is upset too and suggested we go to the cave and see what can be salvaged. Perhaps what was destroyed can be put back together. If we time it carefully, we can go while Loïc is busy here in town at meetings and other political engagements, so you will not be needed on the road. I’d be happy to approach the Mother Cardinal and vouch for the authenticity of anything that is able to be repaired.”   
  
A kind offer; one he should have expected from the woman beside him. “I would appreciate returning there to see what can be done to restore what was destroyed. Though I am not optimistic much will be able to be salvaged.”   
  
“Do not lose hope, Father Petrus. All is not lost yet,” she says, and her optimism cheers him up.   
  
“Who all would go on this mission?”   
  
“Kurt would stay here to keep an eye on my brother and Constantin; the rest of us would come along. We’re all upset by it, you know, even if we do not share your faith.” 

The team he works alongside is a varied one, and the thought of them coming together to try to fix what Loïc De Sardet tried to destroy warms his heart in a way he hasn’t felt since Arelwin still lived.   
  
***

“None of us are archeologists so I’m not optimistic but it’s good that we are here,” Aphra says as they stand amidst the rubble. 

You can hardly tell a cave was ever here. It’s nothing but a pile of rubble. How will they possibly clear it to find something to bring back to the Mother Cardinal? 

“Elizabet?” She turns to look at her partner. “How does that diagnostic spell of yours work?” 

Petrus doesn’t understand how that could possibly be relevant right now. But apparently the captain has an idea. 

“I cast it and... it’s difficult to explain but I’m given a mental picture of what things look like inside the body. I can focus on a specific area; an organ, bone or muscle, for instance.” 

“Could it be adapted?” 

Now he understands. The captain is clever. If Loïc De Sardet just took the time to get past his own prejudices against Nauts he’d probably respect the man. Or, at least, respect his cleverness. 

“I’ve never tried something like this, but I can. I wasn’t here - what should I be looking for?” 

“Stone tablets. Pieces of a mural. Artifacts; though I doubt any of those would have survived the explosion,” he says to her. 

“I will try too,” Siora says. 

Elizabet and Siora stand on the rubble and close their eyes. He can feel magic twisting in the air; strange magic unlike any he had ever felt before meeting these two women. 

“A tablet survived,” Elizabet says after a few minutes. She points to an area of the rubble. “Over there.” 

“How far down?” Aphra asks. 

“About three metres? It’s all rock below us and would need to be cleared away.” 

“Not just cleared away. The walls would need to be reinforced, otherwise we’d be liable to be buried by rock as we work,” Vasco says. “Any way you can show me what it looks like? Push the image into my head or whatever?” 

Elizabet looks at Siora who shakes her head. “I can try drawing a picture? I’m not a good artist, though.” He goes into his bag and pulls out a notebook and piece of charcoal and she starts sketching it. 

“Three metres. You’re certain?” 

“Yes, Love.” 

“How were you at engineering, Aphra?” Vasco calls out. 

“Passable? It was never what I was interested in.” 

“You and I need to figure out how to get down there without killing ourselves.” The two of them go off, examining the drawing Elizabet did. 

Elizabet looks over at him. “Will this be enough to convince the Mother Cardinal?” 

“There’s always a chance.” He’s not optimistic. But knowing something survived cheers him up considerably. 

“We’ll get it, Petrus. It won’t put this cave back to how it was but it’s not all lost,” Aphra tells him. 

During this trip he’s begun to develop a measure of respect for the scientist. This cave means nothing to her and her people, yet she wants to see its secrets regained just as much as he does. 

“I respect history. Destroying something based on the idea that it reveals something inconvenient is wrong,” Aphra says when he asks her about it. 

“Never did I think I’d be digging through rubble with such a diverse group,” he says. 

“Oh, you mean you haven’t dug through the blown up remains of a cave with a Congregation noble, a Native woman and a Bridge Alliance scientist?” Vasco says dryly. “I do it at least once a year.” It’s hot and the Naut captain strips his shirt off, revealing his heavily tattooed torso and arms. Not something he will be doing, regardless of the heat. 

“Father Petrus, while I recognize the notion of propriety is important to you, I believe I must follow my partner’s example,” Elizabet says an hour later. “My apologies.” The worn shirt she’d been wearing, brought specifically for this task slips over her head and he is careful not to look anywhere, save for her face. 

“An excellent idea, Elizabet,” Aphra calls out and apparently follows suit. A glance over in Siora’s direction reveals that she had stripped down without providing any prior warning. 

He sighs. These are certainly unusual circumstances and they are out in the middle of nowhere.

Presumably Saint Matheus would be understanding of the situation. And it’s not as if he’s looking at his three female companions in their current state of undress. It occurs to him that the Enlightened must have a sense of humour. How else would he end up digging through rubble with a group of half-undressed people in their 20s, all from different nations or factions? 

“So, do I get to know what the tattoos mean?” Aphra calls out to Vasco. 

“Some of ‘em, if you ask real nicely,” he responds. 

“The swirls on your chest. What does that mean?” 

He chances a glance up at the captain, getting a good look at his tattoos for the first time. There are three thick curved lines that wrap around his ribs and several intricately patterned shapes on his abdomen that are reminiscent of clouds and lightning. 

They’re striking, if one is interested in that sort of thing, he supposes. 

“I took my first steps on a ship called the Maelstrom.” 

Aphra seems disappointed by this explanation. “I thought that might have meant you’ve sailed through a hurricane before.” 

“I have. That tattoo is on my face.” 

“Vasco, you have sailed through one of those storms?” Siora asks, sounding impressed. 

“Once. Ended up getting promoted to Captain because of it. The previous Captain of the Sea Horse wanted to cut a few days off the voyage so he took us through the edge of it. A massive risk, you understand, and when he messed it up, it was too late for us to avoid it. Instead of taking responsibility, he went below deck. I took charge, and had sailors twice my age following my orders. Was given the ship as a result; don’t actually know what became of Izan after that.” 

“It will be a good story for you,” Vasco says as they gather around the fire that night. “You’ll have preserved your people’s history and all you had to do was excavate the remnants of a cave with a bunch of half-nude people to do so.” 

He’s noticed that the captain is fond of telling stories, which explains why he would think of this matter in terms of the storytelling value it provides. 

“This is one thing I do not wish to be given credit for,” he says. That he was not able to stop its destruction in the first place fills him with deep sorrow. “Credit should be given to Sister Eugenia.” 

“Who was murdered by De Sardet,” Aphra spits out like venom. 

“Should we be successful in convincing the Mother Cardinal to investigate this further, we can advocate for Sister Eugenia to receive her rightful place in Thélème’s history books,” Elizabet says. “I speak only for myself but all I am doing is trying to right a terrible wrong here. I deserve no credit for what we are able to recover.” 

Aphra lifts her water skin. “For Sister Eugenia.” Everyone follows suit. 

He’s so touched by the gesture that he does not bother to tell Aphra that in Thélème, toasting with water is considered to be bad luck. 

A superstition amongst the Nauts as well, he sees, because he notices that Vasco grabbed a flask from his pocket and took a swig out of it. 

***

It takes them six days but they manage to retrieve the tablet. Aphra and Vasco were responsible for reinforcing the stone so as they cleared it, they weren’t crushed by falling rock. Apparently the Naut is incredibly skilled in mathematics, according to Aphra. 

He looks upon the tablet with renewed awe. “How will we speak to the Mother Cardinal without destroying Loïc’s relationship with her?” Elizabet asks. 

“Leave that to me,” he says, recognizing that the legate’s twin lacks a silver tongue and would be liable to accidentally say something that might cause harm. 

It’s just him and Elizabet presenting the stone tablet to the Mother Cardinal; she insisted the others remain at their camp just outside the city for their safety. “Most of the other relics and the cave itself were destroyed, but this tablet proves the theories of Sister Eugenia,” he says. “The information you were given by Lord De Sardet was incorrect.” 

The Mother Cardinal frowns. “Why did he lie to me? How can I be certain this isn’t a forgery?” 

“Honeyed words from the Ordo Luminis. He believed their lies and the concerns they brought up. An unfortunate mistake; one his sister was kind enough to rectify.” 

Suspicious eyes dart over to Elizabet. “You do resemble him. But you are a mystery. How am I to know you aren’t looking to undermine your brother and cause chaos in my nation?” 

Elizabet bows deeply, looking nervous. This may be the first time she’s had an audience with a leader other than her uncle. “There would be no gain for me. I speak honestly when I say I have no interest in politics. That I’m a mystery to you speaks to that, does it not?” 

“It does,” the Cardinal admits. 

“There may be other artifacts that can be recovered amidst the rubble. None of us are archeologists; just a team of people wanting to right a mistake. If you feel it appropriate, sending a team to the site might ultimately shed some further light on the information revealed on this tablet.”

“This... warrants further investigation. Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Bishop Petrus.” 

They were gone for two weeks; far longer than had been planned. “When we return to the apartment, allow me to speak with the legate. It is likely he will be more receptive to what I have to say,” he says. 

Loïc De Sardet is in the sitting room with a glass of wine when they all walk in. “Oh good, so my entire team wasn’t devoured by _lewolans_ after all. Tell me, what mission was so important that my sister abandoned her duties and my staff walked off the job?” 

“We aren’t your fucking staff,” Vasco mutters. 

“My child, I feared the influence of the Ordo Luminis upon my nation. We returned to the cave. The Mother Cardinal has been given a tablet and will be investigating further. This was my idea; the others simply came along to act as security. You did spend the last two weeks attending functions and taking meetings here in the city so I thought it a better use of time than anything else they might do.” 

“So you expressly disobeyed my orders, then?” 

“I do not follow your orders. I am the ambassador to the Congregation but I report to the Mother Cardinal.” He turns to everyone else. “We’ve been on the road for some time. Instead of standing around here, why not relax and unwind elsewhere?” 

Being alone with the legate will make this easier. Everyone disperses; he sees Elizabet take the captain’s hand before going upstairs. He grabs a wine glass and sits, pouring himself a generous glass. The legate’s eyes narrow. “I had not invited you to partake.” 

“I need no invitation. Is it not good manners to allow your conversation partner to imbibe?” 

Loïc scowls at him and he hides his smirk by taking a sip from his glass. 

“You’ve undermined me.” 

“We have not. It was positioned as a mistake; you believed the Ordo Luminis. The benefits to this are twofold: the Mother Cardinal once again sees that they are a threat to peace and she recognizes that your decision was made in error and not a blatant attempt to make decisions about Thélème’s future that you had no right to make. Had she discovered your deception by other means it could have been disastrous for you. You could even say I saved you, though I do not expect to receive a thank you for my actions.” 

All of this was Elizabet’s idea but he’s seen how the legate treats his sister. He will shield the kind woman from further abuse. 

Loïc is quiet for a long time; a man running through every possible move in his head. In the end, he chooses gratitude. “In fact, you are incorrect, Father Petrus. I am grateful you were wise enough to see that intervention is needed. In the future, however, such matters will be discussed with me beforehand.” 

“Of course,” he lies smoothly. 

Before she died he promised Arelwin he would care for her children. Sometimes protection requires deception and lies.


	19. The d’Arcy’s Son

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vasco decides who he is.

“I’ll pay this man’s debt,” Elizabet says loudly and he turns to look at her. 

“Tempest, that sum is considerable. I can’t ask you to do that,” he says. 

“You aren’t, Love. I’m choosing to do it.” She pulls out her coin purse, counting the sum out. 

Apparently she had prepared for this possibility because her coin purse is rather... full. 

Bastien says nothing about Elizabet willingly paying his debt on his behalf, which further disgusts him. To think, he spent weeks imagining this encounter, only to be faced with this idiot!

He’s been stupid. His family has been in front of him the entire time. The Nauts and Elizabet. How many years has he spent daydreaming about this very moment? How much time has he wasted being bitter and angry at his lot in life, not realizing that he’s the man he is today because he is a Naut? 

Bastien is his blood but he isn’t his family, and so he introduces himself as a Naut. 

***

“Are people like Bastien... common?” Vasco asks her the morning after they rescued his brother, only to discover that he was an idiot.

Introducing herself as the sister of the legate held no sway so she ended up paying Bastien’s debt. A worthy price to pay because meeting Bastien allowed him to assert himself and make peace with who he is. 

“You mean, idiotic nobles?” 

“Yes, that.” 

She tries to answer carefully, leaving her own personal bias’ out of it; the years of being teased or looked at as if she carried the plague deeply affects her still. “His sort is not uncommon. It was likely he was spoiled; a wealthy family and no other children raised alongside him... though he’s worse than usual.” 

“There are intelligent ones who happen to be cold and uncaring, yes?” Her brother. Vasco means her brother. 

“Being cutthroat is a common survival tactic. A good deal of people in Congregation high society can be like Loïc and my uncle. I never encountered anyone like me at court.” 

Vasco leans in to kiss her cheek. “That is because there is no one else quite like you, Tempest.” She turns her head and captures his lips in a kiss. 

“Aren’t you sweet. Never would have thought it at first, you know. That the sharp-tongued sea captain would secretly be a very sweet romantic.” 

“Don’t tell anyone; I’ve a reputation to maintain.” 

“Think it’s a bit late for that, Love. Thin walls and all that.”

“Do you remember anything about Bastien now that you’ve seen him in person?” He asks, changing the subject. 

“I - I...” Elizabet stammers. 

“He’s a fool and an arse; be honest,” he says. “Nothing you say could offend me.” 

“When we were children, we were often mocked because of the matching marks on our faces. I retreated from court life as a result; Loïc did the opposite. Occasionally he’d try to hide it with face powder but he took note of those who teased him and saw to their humiliation in turn. Bastien was unkind to both of us when we were little. Admittedly until now I hadn’t known for certain that he was one of our tormentors.” 

“What did your brother do?” 

She laughs a little to herself - Loïc’s actions were unkind but not entirely undeserved. “Bastien has a... fondness for drink. Loïc noticed that and spiked the glasses of wine he offered Bastien with shots of vodka. He over-indulged unknowingly and ended up passing out on the dance floor early in the night, humiliating himself in front of his peers. He disappeared shortly thereafter, presumably moving here.” 

“Can’t say I feel sorry for Bastien after all I’ve seen,” Vasco says. “Doesn’t look like he’s learned anything since.” 

It’s cool and rainy as they travel back to New Sérène in a wagon. She shivers, blowing on her hands in an attempt to warm them. 

“Here, allow me,” Vasco says, taking her hands in his. “Been told my hands are warm and I’ve noticed yours are not.” 

“It must be unpleasant to be touched by someone with such cold hands all the time.”

“Not at all. In case you haven’t noticed, I happen to enjoy it when you touch me.” She shivers again and Vasco undoes his coat. “Come here and take off your own coat.” Confused by what he is planning, she nonetheless complies and shifts closer to him. Vasco drapes his coat as well as hers over the two of them and wraps his arms around her. “Shared body heat. You’ll be warmer like this,” he explains. 

Vasco is right; soon the chill felt deep in her bones dissipates and, while her hair is dripping wet and her face remains chilled, the rest of her is surprisingly warm. “Is this a Naut technique or a seduction technique?” 

“We learn from a young age that this is a good way to warm someone. Really, it works best if we’re both naked but I expect our wagon driver would be displeased by that,” he says wryly, making her giggle. “But I also know from experience that you enjoy cozying up to me.” 

For awhile they sit like this as the wagon slowly moves along the rudimentary dirty road towards New Sérène. When she notices Vasco is particularly relaxed she untucks his shirt, sliding a hand underneath, resting it on his abdomen. 

“Feeling saucy, are we?” He murmurs in her ear. 

“You’re just right here and _so_ handsome. You’re not bothered, I hope?” 

Vasco turns his head and presses cool lips to the edge of her mouth. “How could I be anything but flattered to have the affection of a woman as extraordinary as yourself?” 

***

“I had a visit with Bastien d’Arcy the other day,” Loïc says a few days after they return to New Sérène. Her and Vasco are been sitting in the dining room eating breakfast when he walks in, smoking a cigarette. 

“Would you smoke that damned thing in the garden? It’s foul and they’re terribly bad for you,” she says, glaring at Loïc who rolls his eyes and snuffs it. “And how was your visit?” 

Loïc sits down and grabs a croissant off her plate and tears pieces off it, shoving them into his mouth. 

“You could have grabbed your own plate,” Vasco mutters, shaking his head. She looks over at him, giving a look that she hopes conveys not to pick a fight over it. 

“He told me the most interesting story. That my sister and a Naut rescued him from a group of debt collectors. Said he’d been treated most rudely by them and a businessman he had an agreement with.”

“Only because he was an idiot and gambled away the goods and the money to pay for them,” Vasco says. 

“Well, I realized that the two of you resemble one another! And why else would my sister and her Naut chase after Bastien d’Arcy? So, you’re part of the d’Arcy family, then?” 

“I’m a Naut,” Vasco says forcefully, his hands balled into tight fists on the table. 

Loïc laughs cruelly in response. “You choose that, then? You know your family and still you choose to throw your lot in with the sea mercenaries? You’re almost as stupid as Bastien.” Vasco doesn’t respond, and from the stiffness in his posture, she can tell he’s just barely holding his tongue. 

“Love, shall we go back upstairs?” She asks quickly. 

Loïc raises his hand. “Wait. One more thing. Bastien had no clue why Ellie and a Naut would take a sudden interest in his affairs. Rather unobservant fellow; you two really do look alike. I was kind enough to inform him of your relation, Naut.” 

“That was none of your business and you had no right to do that,” Vasco says coldly. “I think I prefer when you call me a filthy Naut and pretend I don’t exist, as opposed to you prodding where you don’t belong.” 

“Speaking of prodding,” Loïc grabs a piece of fruit off her plate and she just slides it over to him with a huff, “you’ve been prodding where you don’t belong for months now. My sister’s -“ 

“Don’t you _dare_ finish that sentence, Loïc,” she says sharply, standing up and taking Vasco’s hand. And, just to piss her brother off, she leans in and kisses Vasco hard on the lips. “I love you,” she says, loudly enough for Loïc to hear. 

“Evidently I’m welcome where I’ve been prodding,” Vasco says with an air of smugness before they leave the dining room. 

With the knowledge that Vasco is his brother, Bastien was always going to stop by. But they didn’t expect it to be that day. Judy invites Bastien in, and her and Vasco make their way down to the sitting room, bracing themselves for a very irritating afternoon. 

“You did not tell me you were my little brother!” Bastien says when he sees Vasco. He looks curiously when he sees that she’s holding Vasco’s hand. 

“I spoke honestly. I’m a Naut. Not a d’Arcy. Our business concluded in Hikmet; I’m unsure why you feel it necessary to visit Elizabet and I,” Vasco says, crossing his arms. 

“You could be a wealthy man. You said you were a captain, yes?” 

“I am.” 

“Well, the fees I need to pay to ship goods by sea is absurd. You Nauts make a fortune off the backs of honest businessmen!” Vasco rolls his eyes but Bastien does not notice. “Now, you probably don’t see any of those shipping fees, do you?” 

“How I’m paid is none of your damn business.” 

Bastien is unbothered by Vasco’s open irritation - or perhaps too conceited to notice it. “If we work together to ship my goods... off the books, I can pay you. You’d make a fortune... comparatively, of course. Might even be able to afford a proper set of clothes instead of those awful breeches and that shapeless shirt that looks to be missing several buttons.” 

It isn’t. Vasco just can’t be bothered to do it up all the way so a decent portion of his chest - and his tattoos are on display. She’s rather fond of the look. He’s proud of his tattoos and always has been; generally showing them off in some manner when the full protection of his coat is not needed. Currently his sleeves are rolled to the elbow, showing off the elaborate pattern of lines and shapes that cover both of his forearms. 

“So your big proposal for me is that I turn smuggler for you?” 

“Yes. What a great opportunity for the two d’Arcy brothers to work together!” 

Vasco glares at Bastien. “As I said, I’m a Naut. Not a d’Arcy. And I’ll not betray my brothers and sisters by turning smuggler, especially not for a conceited idiot such as yourself.” 

Bastien looks shocked. “You can’t insult me! I’m noble!” He stammers. 

“I can do whatever I want. You’re a damned idiot, Bastien. Recognize that it was fortunate that we were there to pull you out of the fire and know it won’t happen again. Now stop wasting my time.”

“So you’ve chosen the Nauts over your own blood, then? They’re your family?”

“And Elizabet.” 

Bastien stands up and makes a big show of straightening his doublet and adjusting his cravat. On initial inspection he looks well put together but looking more closely she can see alcohol stains and what looks like cigarette burns on it. Subtle signs of a man who spends too much time in a tavern and not enough time focusing on his business. “I remember when my parents gave you up, you know. I’m seeing you again after all these years and all you are is a disappointment, Leandre.” 

“It’s Vasco,” he says, sounding almost bored. “You’re welcome, by the way.” 

“For what?” 

“Saving your pathetic ass.” 

“I’m not pathetic! I’m the only son of a wealthy noble family! I’m a member of high society!” Bastien says, chest puffed up as if he were a rooster crowing. 

“I say it as I see it. Get out, Bastien. You’re embarrassing yourself.” 

She walks over and opens the door; a signal that Bastien needs to leave. “You need to get your Naut on a leash and teach him some manners,” Bastien hisses as he walks past her. She closes the door and looks at Vasco, who has a... smirk on his face? 

“Think it might be quite sexy to have you try to teach me some manners,” he says, eyebrow quirking. 

“That’s what you got out of that? That you’d like it if I leashed you and lorded you about?”

“The one part of that encounter I got any enjoyment out of. Allow me to think of more pleasant things,” he says, opening his arms. She sits on his lap and rests her head in the crook of his neck. 

“I’m sorry Loïc spilled that news and you had to deal with that. Bastien may tell his parents about you.” 

Vasco looks unbothered by it. “He’s free to. I have no desire to meet them and I’ve made it clear I want nothing to do with him.” 

“You have,” she agrees. “But he is an idiot. You might have to tell him off another five or six times.” 

“Lucky me.” 

***

After the fact he realizes he should have demanded that Bastien repay Elizabet the funds she spent saving his pathetic ass. And he completely forgot about it when Bastien stopped by. 

Elizabet would never ask it of him herself. She’s accepted the money is gone and is happy to have saved a life. 

But he’s not going to let that idiot benefit from her generosity. 

While Elizabet is at the palace in meetings with her cousin, he makes his way down to the port. Madam Clerc sees him and sighs. “I don’t know where he is,” she says, sounding exasperated. 

“Lady De Sardet was kind enough to pay off his debt. I’ve come to inform him that he is to reimburse her,” he says. 

“Why I tolerate this man is a mystery,” the woman mutters under her breath. 

Bastien chooses this moment to return. “Good day,” Bastien says, eyeing him curiously. 

“I’ve come to collect your debt on Lady De Sardet’s behalf,” he says. “Two hundred gold.” 

He narrows his eyes. “If Lady De Sardet wishes to collect the debt she should make a formal inquiry or at least come in person. Or are you her muscle?” Bastien laughs to himself. 

“She hardly needs me to act as her ‘muscle’,” he scoffs. “You are alive because of her kindness but that was not her debt to pay.” 

“And you would shake money out of _me_?” 

“You’re no different than anyone else to me,” he says with a shrug. 

Bastien mutters something under his breath, placing his hands on his hips. “I’ll write my father and have him transfer the funds to Lady De Sardet’s bank account on the continent. She’ll have it within six months. You know, it’s doubtful she even noticed the loss; you realize how wealthy her uncle is, do you not?” 

“It’s the principle of it,” he says. “I’ll let her know. Do not try to contact me again,” he says before walking away, hoping that is the last he ever has to deal with Bastien d’Arcy. 

“You know, you didn’t need to do that,” Elizabet says that evening when he tells her she will be reimbursed by Bastien’s father. “He’ll probably mention you in his letter to his parents. It could end up being a headache for you.”

“The very idea of him just allowing you to pay off his debt infuriated me. I wasn’t going to let him take advantage of you like that.” 

One thing he’s noticed about Elizabet is how hesitant she is to stand up for herself. He wonders if her brother’s treatment of her has made her reluctant to confront others who are treating her badly. 

“It was kind of you, but I’m more worried about him making your life difficult than I am about spending that money. You needed to assert yourself and make peace with your life. As far as I’m concerned that was money well spent because it has helped you find that peace.” She reaches over and rests a hand on his knee. 

“It will be fine; I’m not worried about it. And I’m sure this will mean Bastien won’t come anywhere near me, even if he does tell his parents about me. I’ve... been thinking.” Elizabet looks up at him and smiles, waiting for him to elaborate. “I’d like to prove to Admiral Cabral that I’m fully committed to being a Naut. I’m going to ask her for a loyalty mission. Would you be willing to join me on it?” 

“I’d be proud to come along with you.” 

***

Her, Vasco and Siora go and investigate the wreckage at the coast. “So why aren’t you the legate? You’re very kind,” Siora asks as they walk. 

“That is nice of you to say. Loïc was mentored by our uncle and trained specifically for a life in politics. I received an excellent education, including in the area of politics but my... temperament was deemed unsuitable for the position. An observation that I tend to agree with; I dislike politics and am not good at it. I’m quiet, unskilled at negotiating, more kind than shrewd and my anxiety is frequently terrible.” 

“All of those things are what would make you a good legate,” Vasco says. “I’ve no doubt you’d hate it, but you’d treat people fairly. They could trust you.” 

“I’ll do what I can to help your peoples. That’s the best I can do; my name does not go far without a formal position in front of it.” 

Siora and Vasco say no more; she’s noticed they try not to be overly critical of Loïc when she’s around. But the two of them are in good spirits with her. 

It’s heartbreaking looking upon the wreckage. “How many people would have been on a ship this size?” 

“About 35. This ship is slightly larger than the Sea Horse but not by much. The Sea Horse has a crew of 30.” 

Quickly it becomes clear what happened: the very same thing that happened in Sérène. Vasco turns around and he looks panicked, pointing at a cave they’ve yet to explore. “A _nadaig_ ,” he whispers. “The one that tore the Oriflamme to pieces.” 

“That’s a _nadaig Glendemen_ ,” Siora says. “It shoots lightning. Watch out.” 

“What’s our best strategy?” Vasco calls to Siora. 

“I can fight up close. You two stay back,” she calls out. 

It’s a reminder that she lacks experience in battle - at one point Vasco dives and pushes her to the ground, narrowly avoiding a ball of lightning that likely would have been fatal. “We need to work on your dodging, Tempest,” Vasco says as he helps her back up. 

Vasco makes the final blow several minutes later, shooting it in the head. “Does anyone need healing?” She calls out as Vasco examines the body. 

Siora looks surprised. “You heal? With magic?” She nods. “As do I. Show me what you can do?” 

How has this not come up before? She healed people at the battlefield, but Siora was elsewhere and must not have seen her efforts.

Vasco looks sheepish. “Sorry; it’s something I should have mentioned to Siora before this. I have some burns on my arms from the lightning that you can heal,” he says, unbuttoning his coat and sliding it off, cursing under his breath. 

She opens her pack and pulls out a bottle of alcohol and a cloth. “You’ll be pretty unhappy with me after this but I do need to clean your wounds before healing them,” she says apologetically. 

Vasco grabs the bottle and takes a swig, coughing as he swallows it. “That’s absolute swill.” 

“Well, yes; I’m not going to buy _good_ alcohol for cleaning wounds.” She wets the cloth. “May I?” 

He nods and, as gently as she can, she cleans the burns on his arms. “Will I get any interesting scars out of this?” 

Elizabet shakes her head. “They’re superficial burns so I should be able to heal them almost entirely. You’ll need to be careful for a few days, though; your skill will be sensitive. Keep your arms out of the sun.” 

Siora watches intently as she touches Vasco’s arms and sends waves of healing energy over his skin, healing the burns; the fresh skin pink and raw. “Who taught you?” 

“I taught myself,” she says as she wraps bandages around his arms to protect the fresh skin from injury. “But I have studied Bridge Alliance healing techniques in addition to what I’ve taught myself to do magically.” 

“Normally it takes significant training with a _doneigad_ to learn what you’ve taught yourself. You are naturally gifted. I heal too.” 

“Can you teach me?” She asks, almost desperately. For awhile she’s known that she is unlikely to progress much further without someone to teach her. 

“I will teach you all I know. But I suspect within a few moons you will have surpassed me. You will need to find someone else eventually.” 

She waits outside while Vasco speaks to Admiral Cabral in her office. When he leaves, he has a smile on his face. “I’ve re-gained her trust and have been reinstated. Care to watch me get a tattoo?” 

“I’m allowed?”

“Don’t see why not,” he says, extending his hand. “You’ll get to see what you’ll be signing up for when it comes time for us to return to sea.” 

“I’m so proud of you, Love.” 

Vasco hardly reacts as the tattooist works. “You must be used to it by now; you have so many of them,” she says. 

“Mostly. My ribs were the worst - I did them in a single session because if I stopped I’d never finish it. Took the better part of a day to do.”

“Sleeping must have been a pain immediately afterwards since they wrap all around your body.” 

He chuckles ruefully. “I’d forgotten about that until just now but yes, it was unpleasant. When you join up, learn from my mistakes.” 

“You aren’t planning to join us, are you?” The tattooist - Sam cuts in. 

“When the time is right I will. I could hardly let the man I love sail away without me, could I?” 

“Elizabet is training to be a doctor and will be a valued crew member,” Vasco says. “I’ve already benefited more than once from her skills and knowledge.” 

“You’ll have your hands full with this one,” Sam says with a grin. 

“I’m well aware but I’d have no other,” she says and she notices Vasco’s cheeks go slightly pink and she suspects it’s not because of the tattooing. 

“Thank you for coming with me,” Vasco says as they walk hand-in-hand back to the apartment. “It means a great deal to me.” 

“I’m surprised you aren’t returning to sea now that the admiral has forgiven you.”

“I asked. But... Admiral Cabral sees value in my remaining where I am. For now, at least. She did clarify my responsibilities and told me that I need not follow orders that will cause harm to others or myself.” 

Something she’s relieved about; he must have told her about breaking into the Inquisitor’s home on Loïc’s orders. An order that very easily could have led to his death. 

They reach the entrance to the apartment. “What you said earlier... that means I’m coming with you when you return?” 

Vasco doesn’t answer right away; he opens the door and leads them up to their quarters, locking the door behind him. He removes his coat and boots and she does the same. Taking her face in his hands, he pulls her close so his forehead is resting against hers. 

“Sea and love share a bitter bite. The sea seizes and love seizes.”

“Love scalds us and the sea scalds us. For neither are free from tempest’s might.”

She listens quietly, recognizing the poem. 

“Those who fear the waters should stay within the shore’s sight.”

“Those who fear the pain that love procures should shun the flames when love endures.”

“And both shall be safe from founder and blight.”

Vasco kisses her. “I’ve meant to share this with you for some time now. It makes me think of you. Of us. You don’t fear sinking, do you?” 

She wraps her arms around his neck. “I know this poem and I think this is the way it ends...”

“For if water could quench love’s dying embers.”

“Your love that burns and pains and severs, I would douse this fire with the sea of all my tears.”

Vasco leads them to bed and they lie down. “Then we shall set sail together on this bitter sea, my Tempest.”

“That’s where it comes from. Tempest. I never thought to ask...” 

“Yes. After... we spent our first night together I found myself reading it. I’ve... always been fond of poetry. I’m not sure if you’ve noticed.” She has; frequently she’s seen him reading books of poetry in the sitting room or before they go to bed. 

“I like it. Far more creative than my pet name for you.” 

Vasco leans in and kisses her. “It’s been a long time since anyone thought to call me anything sweet. I like it very much.” 

They make love; something they’ve done countless times, but this time feels slightly different. As if they’re bound together by fate; hearts beating as one. A feeling she doesn’t quite understand but one she welcomes. Something she wasn’t ever supposed to have. “Forever. You’ll be a doctor and I’ll be a captain and I’ll show you every beautiful thing in this world,” he whispers in her ear; a sharp contrast to the lewd phrases normally whispered during their coupling. “Brilliant sunsets over turquoise water, shooting stars and dancing light in the sky. You’ll see it all and every night we’ll fall asleep next to one another. We’ll be so happy.” 

She clings to him afterwards, bodies slick with perspiration and she starts to cry; something that surprises even her. 

“Tempest? Did I say something wrong?” 

She shakes her head. “I’m... just... so... happy,” she chokes out, feeling more than a little embarrassed by the whole display. She’s never cried after sex. Never thought she’d ever do so. 

“I’m happy too,” Vasco responds, his own voice thick with emotion. “We make quite the pair, don’t we?” 

“I’d have no one else.”


	20. An Unwanted Arrangement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loïc realizes Elizabet is lonely and tries to make amends in the worst way possible.

His sister thinks she loves the Naut. A man who will sail away from her as soon as he gets his ship back. The problem is that she’s lonely, according to Constantin. Ellie is acting out because she’s lonely. 

“Ellie, I’ve made a reservation for us to dine together tonight,” he says as they eat breakfast. He will reveal his plan to ensure she’s no longer alone and involved with someone who is appropriate for her. 

“I cannot,” she says between bites. “Vasco and I have plans.” 

The Naut looks at him, as if daring him to say something. “I’m afraid this is important. It concerns your future.” 

Ellie takes a sip of her tea. “That is not your concern. My future is well in hand, thank you.” 

She’s resisting him. He’s trying to help her but she insists on burning through every advantage her name has ever given her for the sake of some tattooed scoundrel. “I’m afraid that, as your superior, I am ordering you to attend dinner with me.” There’s fear in her eyes now. Ellie is family; he has her best interests at heart but she’s been so poisoned against him that she now fears him. He softens. “Ellie, please.” 

“I will grab a coffee with you now. But I have plans this evening,” she finally says. The Naut leans over to whisper in her ear. Ellie shakes her head. “I’m fine, Love,” she says, just loud enough for him to hear. 

“The reservations are in the best restaurant in town! It would be rude to cancel.” 

Ellie narrows her eyes. “Then you will either find another dinner guest or you will be rude because I have plans.” She stands up. “Shall we go for coffee?” 

Perhaps Petrus will be willing to dine with him. Constantin has a dinner engagement which means he would be unable to join him. He stands up and follows her to the nearby coffee shop. 

His sister is fond of coffee and apparently has visited here often enough to be friendly with the serving staff. “The cake is very good,” she says, ordering herself a slice of cake and coffee. He orders a coffee. 

“You just ate breakfast,” he says disdainfully. 

“Actually, I did not. I hardly had a chance to eat a single bite before you came down, insisting I give you my full attention.” 

“Your rudeness is distinctly unappealing, Ellie,” he says, giving her a look. 

“Then I suppose it’s a good thing I do not live my life to impress you. What do you want, Loïc?” 

Their drinks arrive and the server places a slice of cake in front of Ellie. She takes a bite and smiles happily before offering him her fork. He refuses. “I am too dignified to eat sweets just after breakfast.” 

She shrugs. “Your loss.” 

Be polite and position this as a good thing, he tells himself. Surely she will accept it if it means she can remain a rich woman. “I know you’re lonely, Ellie. And that after the... unpleasantries surrounding your last arranged marriage you are no longer seen as a viable option. But I have some good news.” Ellie is glaring daggers at him, her cup of coffee trembling in her hand. 

“I’ve made contact with a wealthy merchant family. Good people; built themselves up from nothing. Their son is just a few years younger than us and unmarried. And they’ve agreed to open negotiations so long as their son receives a title. Your betrothed will marry into our family, take our name and receive a title of his very own.”

“I will not marry him.” 

Loïc can’t help but laugh at that. “And why not? He’s not old like your previous fiancé. He seems to be a nice enough man who is looking forward to starting a family. You could have a babe in your arms by this time next year.” 

“I don’t want children,” she says firmly. 

He’s thought about a family with Constantin. But in order for that to happen Constantin would have to lay with a woman. Perhaps even marry a woman. The thought of it drives him near mad with jealousy. And so he knows he will never be a father. Never will he teach his child the lessons Uncle Adrien taught him. 

Ellie could be a parent and yet she chooses not to be. Perhaps for the best; it’s not as if she would raise a child to navigate noble life successfully anyway. 

“And what will I tell his parents?” 

“Not my problem. Marry him yourself if he happens to be interested in men.” She takes a bite of her cake and chews slowly, as if considering something. “Oh, but you could not, could you? Because you’re in love with our cousin!” She says in a low, angry whisper. 

“At least he’s a noble and not a Naut. Do you have any idea what gossip there is about you? Constantin has fielded more than one question about the man’s tattoos!” 

“Oh, the horror! Answering questions from people curious about someone from a world they know little about!” Ellie drains her coffee quickly; she has almost certainly burned her tongue in the process. “I think we’re finished here,” she says. 

“If you do not marry who I approve, you do not marry at all,” he says, pointing his finger at her. 

“Then I suppose I’ll just continue fucking my Naut, then,” she snaps, turning on her heels and storming out. 

He sighs. Of course she makes a scene. And she left half a slice of cake behind. 

Looking around furtively, he sees that no one is nearby so he grabs her fork and takes a bite of the rich chocolate cake and will grudgingly admit to himself that it is excellent. 

Petrus joins him at dinner this evening. “My child, I must thank you for the invitation. I had been wanting to dine here for some time.” 

“I am pleased to have your company; there is no one I know with finer taste in wine than you, Father Petrus.” 

The Bishop tops up both their glasses. “You flatter me. I commend your taste, as well.” 

“May I ask you a personal question?” 

“You may.” 

“Why did you never marry? Bishops in your faith are allowed to, yes?” 

“Few do, my child. The life I’ve chosen is a demanding one. The... opportunity to marry never arrived. But I have been blessed with a full life regardless.” He takes a bite of his pasta and swallows before continuing. “Why do you ask?” 

“Because my sister has refused the arranged marriage I set up for her,” he says, cutting into his steak with more force than is strictly necessary, the sound of his cutlery sliding against his plate makes him cringe and look around to ensure he’s not being stared at. He isn’t. 

Petrus chuckles to himself. “Your mistake there was setting one up for her. I am under the impression she is quite happy in her... personal life.” 

“She seems to like you and you understand the world of politics better than she ever could. Can you talk to her and change her mind?” He takes a bite of his salad and chews, trying not to look as frustrated as he feels. 

“Absolutely not.” Not the response he was expecting. All he does is raise his eyebrow, waiting for an elaboration. “Your sister can make her own decisions. As I’ve told you before, you would be wise to let this go. Now, instead of grousing about your sister, we should discuss the Ordo Luminis. Such foolish people, but I’m optimistic we can put a stop to them if we handle matters delicately.” 

He listens to the bishop but as he speaks, wonders if aligning with a group of people fond of burning heretics might have its uses occasionally. 

***

Elizabet’s anger is a force of nature when she returns from coffee with her brother. He asks if she wants to talk about it and she shakes her head. “Need to forget. Distract me. Please.” 

And so he does, by taking her hand and leading her upstairs. The sex is rougher than they’ve had before; he’s covered in crescent shaped nail marks, scratches and bruises afterwards but she’s out of breath and calm by the time they’re basking in the afterglow. 

“I can heal you? I was rough; I’m sorry.” 

He smirks at her. “And I enjoyed it a great deal. I’d like to keep the marks, if you don’t mind. I left a few of my own below your neckline.” 

Elizabet does not heal them, which means she’s come to the same decision he did. “I won’t marry anyone but you,” she says. 

“I know?” He doesn’t understand why she says this but suspects it has something to do with why she was so angry. “Would you like to talk about it now?” 

She shakes her head. “I just need you to know that. In case any gossip comes around here. I don’t mean to... pressure you; if you’d rather not ever marry I’m happy to simply be with you; I just don’t want you to think...” she babbles. 

“Tempest, I know you’re not intending to pressure me. I’m happy as we are. But I’d also be happy to be your husband when we decide the time is right.” 

More than once he’s considered how he will propose to her. 

“Would you still like to go to the tavern with me tonight?” She asks. 

“Very much so.” 

The unofficial Naut tavern isn’t actually owned by the Nauts. It’s run by a couple who saw the benefit of opening a tavern near the port. A decision that has been fruitful in a way that occasionally overwhelms them, he’s been told. 

Elizabet is dressed in a simple black silk blouse and a blue skirt. Her hair is braided, but not pinned. 

She’s gorgeous; just gorgeous. There’s a shy smile on her face when she realizes how he’s eyeing her. Something he’s somewhat amused by, given how they passed the time this afternoon. 

They walk, hand-in-hand to the tavern. He’s asked her before if they should refrain from showing affection in public, and she told him she refuses to be ashamed of loving him. Since that day she’s made sure to take his hand whenever they’re outside the apartment. 

It’s dim in the tavern; the windows are made of darker glass which means candles are on every table, even before the sun sets. The furniture is simple, but far more sturdy than the furniture of the Coin Tavern. Whether it’s because there are fewer brawls here or something else, he has no idea. 

There are brawls, to be clear, but most Nauts respect the proprietors enough to take it outside. 

He grabs a corner table for them; there are a few members of his crew here but he does not wish for them to feel as if they cannot let loose. They order a bottle of whiskey and a plate of freshly caught fish to share between them. 

Elizabet took the seat beside him and rests her head on his shoulder. “I like it here already. Here I’m just your love and not a rich girl who is scrutinized by every other noble.” 

“Captain!” He hears a voice that could only come from Flavia. “And Lizzie!” 

He readies himself to correct Flavia, knowing how she feels about being called ‘Ellie’ but Elizabet grins and stands up, giving the other woman a hug. “I’m so pleased to see you! How is everything?” She asks Flavia. 

“Must admit I’m surprised to see you. Would have thought you’d be on your way to Sérène by now,” he says. 

Flavia sits down at the table. “Captain Ruben was assigned to do local trips around the island. Means we’re not on the open sea which is a change but... more time in the tavern, I suppose.” 

He’s known Flavia long enough to know something about the current situation is making her unhappy. But he also knows she wouldn’t let a word of complaint ever reach his ears. 

“So you two look happy,” Flavia says. “Am I allowed to ask questions?” 

“I’m not sure what sort of questions need to be answered about our relationship, but sure; go on,” he says. 

“Is it a big secret? Given that you’re a noble and all, Lizzie?” 

Elizabet looks around and speaks in a very obviously fake haughty voice. “Who told you I’m noble?” Flavia laughs. “But to be serious, I don’t care what people think. We love one another; that’s what matters. We’ve got a plan and we will be together.” 

“Does that mean you’ll come back to sea, Cap? We all miss you.” 

“Very kind of you,” he says. “I will, though it won’t be until my mission here is complete. But when the time is right I’ll be at the helm once more.” 

“And will you be our doctor? Does this mean old Gustavo can retire from medic duty?” Flavia asks.

“I expect he will be pleased to be relieved of the role.” 

“I’d appreciate if we kept this quiet, especially from my brother but yes, when Vasco returns to sea I will be returning as well,” Elizabet says. 

Flavia brightens up noticeably. “Lauro owes me ten gold! He didn’t think you’d come back, Lizzie but I knew you would. Saw how you loved our captain.” 

“Where is Lauro tonight?” He asks. 

“With his sweetheart,” Flavia says. “So, got any good land stories, Cap?” 

“Not many I can share, to be honest.” He won’t complain about De Sardet to his crew. He may hate the man but he does know how to remain professional. “Elizabet and I did do some traveling with a friend of ours - Siora. Went to her village not too far from here. We had some tasks to complete,” he trails off, not wanting to get into how they were too late and Bladnid ended up being captured and dying in Bridge Alliance custody. “I did my loyalty mission, which consisted of investigating the shipwreck of the Oriflamme just off the coast with Elizabet and Siora. Turns out they’d had a guardian on-board. It woke up, got free, sunk the ship and killed everyone on board. A damn tragedy.” 

“Shit. At least you found out what happened. Have you seen any more of those creatures?” 

“We fought the one that escaped from the ship,” he says. “It shot electricity. Burned my arms a bit but Elizabet patched me up and it didn’t even leave a scar.” 

“No scar? How am I s’posed to believe this happened?” He points to the tattoos on his face as evidence. 

“It did happen. I’m quite glad his wounds didn’t scar; if they did that means they would have been worse than they ended up being,” Elizabet says. 

“Got into any other good scrapes? Any new scars?” Elizabet raises her eyebrow at Flavia, apparently baffled by this turn in conversation. 

“We tend to be rather proud of our injuries,” he explains to her before turning back to Flavia. “No interesting scars yet. I’d say it’s a matter of time but Elizabet would probably be irritated with me.” 

“Yes, Elizabet would be irritated,” his partner quips. “Please avoid getting hurt.” 

“I don’t go looking for fights. But if one comes to me I’ll be damn sure I finish it.” 

Flavia sticks around for awhile before departing, leaving them alone once more. “I always liked to watch you with your crew. You’re a good leader and they all adore you.” 

“They’re good people. Easy to be good at my job when I’m working with people who know what they’re doing.” He takes a sip of his drink. “You were fine with being called ‘Lizzie’. Why that and not ‘Ellie’?” 

Elizabet looks so sad and lost that he regrets asking the question. “It was fine when we were little. Loïc wasn’t able to say my full name when we were very young so he called me Ellie. But now it’s a reminder of a time that I once thought was innocent. It wasn’t; my whole life I’ve walked on eggshells around my uncle. And it’s a reminder of what Loïc once was. A sweet little boy. Loïc knows I hate it. I think he uses it to infantilize me. A subtle way of letting me know I’m unworthy of making my own decisions in his eyes.” 

“I’m sorry I asked. I see how it hurts you.” 

Elizabet takes a sip of her drink and shakes her head. “It’s fine. There are things in my life that hurt far more than being called by a nickname I happen to loathe. Suppose I should just let it go.”

“No. You deserve to be called what you prefer to be called. I can talk to him if you like.” He’d be far less gentle than Elizabet has been every time he’s heard her ask her brother to call her by her actual name. 

“It’s fine. Please. I’d rather you not get involved.” 

He hates it. He hates that he can’t protect her from this little insult. But he respects her in a way her brother never will, so he will not push the issue with the jackass. 

Elizabet is more than a little tipsy when they leave so he wraps an arm around her shoulder to help her stay standing. “Hope my asshole brother isn’t around when we get home. Fuck him,” she slurs. “Fuck his hypocrisy, fuck his cruelty, fuck his obsession with becoming our uncle. Just fuck him.” She’s not angry, but resigned. Sad. 

“We’ll get you to the sea as soon as we can and that life will no longer be yours,” he says. 

“I’m a wicked person, Vasco,” she says softly. So softly he can barely hear her. 

“Why would you say that?” 

“I’ve thought about his death. How things would be easier if he were gone. I wouldn’t have to be who he wants me to be. I wouldn’t have to worry about you and Siora. But I don’t want him to die; I just want him to not be here. Today, I wished for his death. As I was walking back. I thought if I saw him get trampled by a carriage I’d be relieved. I’m a fucking monster!” Her knees buckle and he catches her and scoops her up in his arms, carrying her the rest of the way back. 

“While you’ve not told me much, I can see the sorrow he causes you. It is understandable to think such things when you are hurting particularly strongly. Doesn’t mean you’re making it a reality; just means you’re trying to cope with a hard situation. You’re the best person I know.” 

He doesn’t say it to her and he never will but he’s occasionally thought about how nice it would be if a wild animal took a bite out of the jackass. 

“I tried for a long time to be what he expects and he wasn’t happy then but at least he was better than he is now,” she says, burrowing her face into his neck. 

“But you’re happy now, yes?” She nods. “Then that is what is important. If he’s so unhappy to see you filled with joy, that is his problem. Not yours.” 

Loïc De Sardet is smoking in the sitting room when he carries her inside. “Typical. Says she has plans, which consists of getting piss drunk and likely causing a scene,” De Sardet says. 

He’s about to argue with the man, but Elizabet murmurs into his neck. “Leave it be. I just want to be with you in our bed.” And so he ignores the man because he loves Elizabet more than he loves knowing he’s tore a strip off the other man.


	21. Bonding with Siora

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elizabet and Siora spend time together.

“So, a horse is one of the _renaigse_ carriage beasts?” Siora asks as her, Elizabet and Vasco make their way to the stables outside New Sérène. 

“Yes. They can also be ridden. I bought a horse awhile back and have no need of it, so I thought I’d give him to you and your village, if you enjoy the idea of learning to ride,” Elizabet says. 

“She bought the horse after receiving my letter from San Matheus,” Vasco says, “you can make much better time galloping on a horse than you can riding in a wagon.”

“Is it difficult to learn?” Siora asks as they walk into the stables. 

“I’d make sure you had lessons. I know how to ride but dislike it and would not be a good teacher. But I will be able to help out today well enough.”

Siora turns to Vasco. “Do you like riding?” 

Vasco’s hysterical laughter is evidently answer enough for her. 

Elizabet guides Siora to the stall the horse is in. She looks up in awe. “It is a big animal.” 

“His name is Strawberry,” she says, handing Siora an apple to give to him. 

“What’s a strawberry?” Siora gives the apple to the horse and laughs with delight when he takes it from her.

“A fruit from the continent. A red berry. Very popular in desserts.” 

Elizabet has the stable master prepare him to be ridden - something she can do but she’s terribly slow at it and wants Siora to see how it is done by someone who is competent. She helps Siora onto the horse and gets on herself. 

“Would you care to rent another horse for your Naut friend?” The stable master asks Elizabet. 

“I’m afraid if I did, Vasco would be inclined to leave me,” Elizabet responds with a laugh. 

Vasco chuckles as well. “I wouldn’t leave you but you’d want to be careful next time we wander near a cold stream. If you’re content to walk with the horse I can walk alongside you.” 

She does take things slow and Siora is delighted by the experience. “I did not think you could ride animals, _Carants_! Can I do this again?” 

“I’ll arrange for you to receive lessons. So long as you remain by our side I’ll have the horse kept here at the stable though when you return home you’ll need a place to keep him.” 

“We have _andrig_ that help out around the village so we have a building similar to your stables,” Siora says. “This is a very kind gift. Eseld will be interested in seeing the horse as well and I’m sure she will also be grateful for the gift you’ve given to my village.” 

The three of them settle in a quiet spot at the top of a hill. “How are you handling everything, Siora?” Elizabet asks. 

She never spoke with Siora about what happened but she’s sure it was traumatizing. And then to lose her mother after that... 

“I’m... grateful for my new friends. You and Vasco have been very kind. Kurt is also very kind,” Siora says, as if afraid of stepping over a line. “Your brother...” 

“... is unkind. Do not worry or feel guilty about however you feel about him. I will not be offended.” 

Siora looks relieved. “I am glad you stepped in and that I do not have to travel with him if you are not there. He scares me.”

“I’m sorry. I should have insisted on coming along. What he did... disgusts me. Completely. And I promise, I will not allow it to happen again,” Elizabet says, taking Siora’s hand in hers as she speaks. 

“You are not like him. He makes you sad. I’ve seen how he talks to you.”

Elizabet gives her a sad smile. “Our relationship has been challenging for several years now. It has grown more challenging in recent months. But I endure. Loïc has a very specific idea of how one’s life should be lived. I’ve chosen to live my life differently.”

“Yes; you’ve chosen to be happy,” Vasco says, an edge of sarcasm to his voice. “How dare you.” 

“What was your childhood like?” Elizabet asks Siora, changing the subject. 

“It was me, Eseld, _Màtir_ and _Tad_. My _tad_ taught me when I was growing up. The names of every plant and how to heal the sick. He was our village’s _doneigad_. Eseld and I were always close; we’re twins like you and your brother are. Until the lions attacked and killed my father, things were calm. Peaceful. What about yours?” 

“I grew up in a big palace in Sérène. Far bigger than the palace in New Sérène. It was Mother, Loïc and I; we had our own wing of the palace. Constantin and his parents had another, but Constantin was over with us frequently. I had a very loving relationship with my mother. But I disliked nobility. It was restricting; I can’t do the things I want to do and my chosen career has been deemed shameful. Though, I’m luckier than most: I had a good mother who treated me with love and kindness.” 

Elizabet thinks of Constantin who endured neglect from his parents and abuse from his father. Of Loïc who sacrificed everything he once was to take some of the pressure off Constantin. A kind boy twisted into a cruel man. 

“And your childhood, Vasco?” 

When Vasco speaks, he is careful; considering every word. She understands why: he must keep the secrets of his people. “I grew up on the Naut island. Naut children are raised together and I had classes with all of the other children who were my age. Never had anyone I’ve thought of as a parent. I’d have rather been raised by a parent who loved me, but I made friends with my peers and when I became a Cabin Boy at age 12 I really started to shine. Preferred being at sea to being on land; always did, even as a boy.” 

“Do you miss it now?” Siora asks. 

“I do,” Vasco says. “I’ll return home when the time is right.” 

“But what about Elizabet? She is not a _Moridegen_!” 

“I’d ask you not to share this with anyone but I will be. When Vasco returns to the sea I’m going with him.”

“She’s going to be a doctor,” Vasco says; the pride in his voice filling her with joy. 

Siora looks happy to hear this. “Good. _Minundhanem_ should be together.”

As the sun begins to set, Elizabet and Siora get back into the saddle and walk back to the stables, with Vasco walking alongside them. “You’ll be sore tomorrow, Siora,” Vasco says. “Could hardly walk the next day.” 

“That just means I’ll have to go out again soon so my body gets used to it,” Siora says cheerily. 

Elizabet laughs. “We’ve got ourselves a horse woman here. You’re a natural, Siora.” 

***

“You’re pushing too hard when you cast. This means you’re expending more energy than necessary. Coax, do not force,” Siora says. 

Siora is teaching her all she can about healing magic. In a few short weeks she’s come along considerably thanks to her instruction. 

“It doesn’t do anything if I do not force; why is that?” 

She’s tried Siora’s recommended technique and had little luck so far. 

“Because it is a shift in the way you’ve been casting your healing spells. You had no one to teach you so you are pushing injuries to heal. You will grow tired less quickly once you’ve learned not to use force in your casting.” 

“Should we find someone to act as a patient? I am trying it on myself and getting too distracted. But Kurt or Vasco might have a bruise or cut I can try healing,” Elizabet suggests. 

Siora stands up and leaves the room, returning a few minutes later with Kurt in tow. “I’m told I will be aiding in your education today, Green Blood,” Kurt says. 

“I’m trying to learn how to heal without forcing it. That means I will not tire as easily. You have an injury I can look at?” 

“Yeah, I broke my toe the other day. Got it wrapped but it sure would be nice to have it healed.”

She gives him a funny look. “How did you manage that?” 

“He wasn’t paying attention and bashed it on the coffee table,” Vasco says as he walks into the room. 

“We agreed to tell her it was while we were sparing,” Kurt growls. 

“You may have but I decided the real story was much more fun,” Vasco says in response, a mischievous grin on his face. 

“Take your sock off and I’ll see what I can do,” she says before turning to Vasco. “What do you have for me to tend to?” 

“Cuts obtained during spars with Kurt.” 

“He cut himself while cooking breakfast,” Kurt says. “You didn’t keep my secret; I’m not keeping yours, Sailor.”

“Suppose that’s fair,” Vasco says. 

She gently places her hands on Kurt’s foot. “This is a new technique for me so it might not work right away or it might hurt more, so I’m sorry,” she says apologetically. 

“Broken toe is hardly the worst injury I’ve had; do whatever you need to do.” 

Closing her eyes, she does as Siora instructed: she focuses on the injury, sending waves of healing magic through his foot without forcing it around the injury. 

Nothing happens and she feels discouraged. “Don’t stop,” Siora says, “you’re getting there and with practice it will come more quickly.” 

After several minutes she feels the bone starting to knit back together. Several more minutes go by and she suspects it might be completely healed. “Did I manage to heal it all the way?” She asks Siora, who casts a quick spell and nods. 

“I’ve never healed a broken bone completely!” She thinks of poor Vasco who still had to endure a few weeks of discomfort with half-healed ribs during their voyage. 

“That was amazing!” Vasco says. “Now Kurt can bash his toe on the furniture as many times as he wants.” 

“I will toss you out the window, Sailor.” Kurt turns to her. “You did well. You’ve come far in the last few months and you should be proud.” 

Vasco sits down next to her. “My turn, if you have the energy to tend to me?” 

She nods and looks at the cut on his hand. “Did you clean this?” 

“With alcohol and water when it happened. I’ve learned well from you,” Vasco says. 

Still, she looks for any signs of festering and is relieved to find none. It’s a smaller injury than Kurt’s was so the cut begins to close more quickly than Kurt’s toe healed. “It’s always so interesting to watch it close right before my eyes,” Vasco says. 

“I can do smaller injuries like this but what if something really bad happens?” 

That Loïc and the rest of his team regularly end up in combat is something she always has on her mind. Eventually a more serious injury will occur. 

“The principle is the same. You must be patient and do not force it. Trust your abilities. This is even more important for serious injuries because if you tire yourself out too soon, you will be unable to do what must be done to heal the worst of it,” Siora says. 

“You can grow flesh with your mind, Tempest; that’s badass.” 

“It’s not only with my mind,” she stammers, “now that we are on Tír Fradí I’m calling on the island for help.” 

Vasco smiles at her. “I know. Doesn’t make it any less badass. Anyone can stab someone with the sharp end of a sword; only a few can patch up the damage done by a sword. You’re amazing. Thank you for tending to me.” 

“There must be more I need to learn,” she says to Siora. 

“Practice is what you need more than anything I can teach you right now. Talk to everyone and have them come to you for whatever aches and pains they have. There is a spell I’ll need to teach you - one to replenish blood that has been lost, but that will be theoretical.” 

“And will remain theoretical for some time, I hope,” she says in response. 

The idea of taking someone’s life is her hands is... intimidating. 

“One day you will need it, _Carants_.” 

“If Kurt throws me out the window like he threatened you’ll probably be able to try that spell out,” Vasco says, looking rather pleased with himself. 

“No,” she says firmly. 

“Think you’ll get in trouble with Elizabet if you toss me out the window, Kurt.” 

“As I’m well aware. There are plenty of other ways to annoy you, Vasco. You ever told Siora about your boat?” 

Elizabet snorts and Siora looks confused by the frown on Vasco’s face.


	22. Poison without an Antidote

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lack of preparation puts Loïc in danger out in the middle of nowhere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: character injury and instance of slut-shaming.

Years of teaching and watching Lord De Sardet in combat has paid off. He’s a brick wall on the battlefield; skilled at holding an opponent’s attention and keeping them off their lesser-armoured allies. In short, they fight with the same strategy. 

It’s a good strategy. It has always worked for him. For Lord De Sardet too. Only problem is that one tends to get their ass kicked while doing it. 

Something he thinks of as Lord De Sardet vomits into the grass after they take down a group of _dosantats_. “I think he is poisoned,” Petrus announces with a waver in his voice he’s never heard in the bishop. 

“Hellfire,” he curses, well aware of the danger he could be in. They’re in ancient ruins and more than a days’ walk from civilization. And even then, it wasn’t much of a civilization; the mining town did not look as if it had a doctor so they may not have a supply of the necessary antidote for him. 

“Why isn’t Siora or Elizabet with us?” Aphra asks as she frantically searches through her bag. 

“Lord De Sardet did not want Green Blood to come out and Siora doesn’t come out if she doesn’t,” he says. “Same reason the sailor isn’t with us. He’d have been damn handy in a few of the fights we’ve had.” 

The sailor is quick and he is deadly. He likely would have downed a few of the beasts before they had a chance of poison anyone. And the sailor likely would have been intrigued by the flying beasts and might have even taken samples to craft some new variety of poison. 

“Sir, we should bring your sister out. Her knowledge would be helpful in these matters,” he suggests once Lord De Sardet has ceased vomiting and is settling on the ground with the help of Petrus. 

“She’d be nothing more than a liability. Too soft. Do you really think she could kill the creatures we’ve killed? She’d probably cry the moment she saw a corpse.” 

Green Blood has been hunting for creatures to dissect the entire time they’ve been here but he will not betray her confidence so remains silent. 

“I have one antidote,” Aphra says, unstoppering it and pouring a little into another container. “I’m going to try to reverse-engineer it just in case we need more. I bought this awhile back from a Native merchant.” She hands Lord De Sardet the potion and he tosses it back. 

It helps. For an hour. And then he’s back to vomiting and his skin takes on a grey pallor. “Better figure out how to make more,” he tells Aphra. 

“I’m getting there; be patient!” 

“We’re on the clock here; he’s getting worse,” he responds, making his way over to Lord De Sardet. “Can I help?” 

“Don’t need a Coin Guard to do anything more than you’re getting paid to do,” he says. “And it’s not as if you’re doing the job well, anyway; I shouldn’t have taken that hit.” 

“Apologies,” he says, because he is not paid to defend himself against the harsh words of his employer. 

Him and Petrus may be able to carry Lord De Sardet to the town. Lord De Sardet is a large man; tall and solidly built, but so is he. Once he carried a man his size on his back for half a day after he was wounded in combat. Though that was over flat terrain and he was a good 16 years younger at the time. While he’s still in excellent shape, he’s not quite the man he was in the prime of his youth. Though he is smarter now. Far smarter. 

The fever starts through the night and he sits, moistening the cloth on his charge’s forehead. “Hang in there, Sir,” he says as Lord De Sardet shivers uncontrollably. 

How will he tell the others that Lord De Sardet died on his watch? No. He’s not dead yet. Aphra is working furiously by the campfire, trying to replicate the formula of the antidote. “If we’re lucky I’ll have a batch made by morning,” she tells him. 

“And if we’re not?” He fires back. 

“I don’t know,” Aphra says. 

Who is in charge when Lord De Sardet is unable to lead? Certainly not him. Would it be Aphra or Petrus making the judgement call on what to do? 

“My notebook,” Lord De Sardet says. “Bring it here.” He goes into his bag and finds the leather-bound notebook and charcoal he uses for his sketches and hands both to him. With shaking fingers Lord De Sardet struggles to hold the charcoal. 

“I can write whatever you dictate,” he offers. 

“No,” he says through gritted teeth, “this is private. Make sure Constantin gets this if... if...” 

“I will,” he promises. 

Slowly a letter is drafted as Lord De Sardet fights off his chills and bouts of dizziness. “Done,” he says, handing the notebook and charcoal back to him. 

“Is there anything I should pass along to your sister if... you are unable to?” 

“No. She’s made her choices. To whore herself out to a Naut.” 

Hearing Green Blood spoken about with such blatant disrespect infuriates him. “Sir, she is a good woman who loves a good man. And... she loves you very much. I can pass along a message but I’ll not allow one of my charges to be disrespected.” 

Lord De Sardet laughs weakly, rolls over and dry heaves for several minutes, having vomited up everything in his stomach hours ago. “Tell her she’s legate, then, if I don’t make it out of these damned ruins. It’ll be good for her to be forced into politics. Means she’ll forget about this ridiculous doctor business.” 

“I will let her know.” It’s not a message of love but better than his initial proclamation. 

Having a doctor around would be terribly useful right now, but he doesn’t bother to mention that. It’s not his place to do so. Green Blood mentioned that Siora had shown her how to pull poison out of a body using magic, meaning that, in theory, their lack of antidotes would not be a serious concern. 

Eventually the man falls into an uneasy sleep. Still, Kurt stays up, watching over him while Aphra works furiously. Only Petrus sleeps, but it is unlikely to have been restful, as he wakes with the sun and comes to join the vigil beside Lord De Sardet. 

“Got it!” Aphra announces. “Wake him up.” 

Gently he shakes Lord De Sardet, who fails to stir. “Sir,” he says. “Your antidote is ready. You must wake.” 

“Allow me to try something. An old trick used back in Thélème when a reveller has over-indulged,” the old fox says, conjuring a tiny ball of shadow and casting it on the inside of Lord De Sardet’s wrist. 

That does it; the man shoots awake, fists up in front of his face, ready to take a swing at his attacker. “We had to wake you, my child; Aphra has finished the antidote. Once you’ve taken enough to ward off the poison, you should drink some water and get more rest.” 

Too weak to say anything, he nods and Aphra helps him drink the antidote. “We’ll give you another in half an hour,” she says. 

They’re stuck at the camp for three days before Lord De Sardet has recovered enough to make his way down through the mine. Their pace is slower than normal and he recognizes that Green Blood is going to be worried about them. Lord d’Orsay as well. 

“We should see if Elizabet is willing to join us on the riskier missions,” the bishop murmurs to him after Lord De Sardet collapses into his bed immediately after dinner one evening. 

“I would agree but the sailor will insist on coming along as well to watch her back. Given that the two of them are at odds, I’m unsure he would accept that. Siora also heals but won’t travel without Elizabet to keep watch.” 

“If we can change their mind - convince them that we can keep Siora and Vasco safe from him...” 

He shakes his head. “There’ll be no changing her mind. She’s extremely protective of those she cares about. Her brother showed that he did not value their safety and so she sees it as her duty to keep them safe from harm.” 

“Then we shove Vasco and De Sardet into a room until they make peace and become friends,” Aphra says, poking at their campfire with a stick. Embers fly into the air like little fireflies. 

“Won’t happen. He has expectations for her that won’t ever be realized. And Vasco is being blamed for pushing her off the path established for her. What he doesn’t realize is that she was always going to rebel and become a doctor. It just would have been a bit more discreetly had she not met the captain.”

And Vasco is just as protective of her as she is of him. He’s seen the way the man reacts to Lord De Sardet’s caustic remarks. The way he stiffens and looks over at her, silently pleading with her to allow him to intervene. His own sharp comments when Green Blood isn’t around. They’ll never get along. 

“She’ll be upset when she finds out what happened. And at the very least, will make sure we are all better prepared when we head back out next,” he says. 

It’s not a surprise that she is at the apartment when they arrive and rushes to the front entrance as soon as they open the door. “What happened?” She demands, looking almost panic-stricken. 

“Got struck by the wrong end of a _dosantat_. I’m fine,” Lord De Sardet says. 

“He got himself poisoned and the only antidote we had was one I purchased. I had to figure out how to make it while we were in-field,” Aphra says and Lord De Sardet glares daggers at her. 

“Aphra is overreacting.” 

“Why did you only have the one antidote? Loïc, you should know you must prepare for anything that can come! That was a foolish risk! How are you feeling? Let me look you over.” Green Blood approaches him, a spell prepared in her hands. 

“Would you quit fussing? You aren’t my mother.”

“But I am your sister,” she retorts. “I’ll tell Constantin that you were careless,” she says, the subtext behind that threat evident to all remaining in the room. 

“ _Don’t_.” 

“Then take off your armour and let me look you over.” 

Rolling his eyes, Lord De Sardet complies, lying on the couch in the sitting room. 

As Green Blood looks over her brother, asking questions to ascertain his current condition, he turns his attention over to the sailor and catches a subtle hint of disappointment in his eyes. It is gone as quickly as it appears; as soon as their eyes meet Vasco gives him a lopsided grin. “Sounds like things were more exciting than usual during your last mission.” 

“Could have used a bit less in the way of excitement,” he says with a shake of his head. He walks out of the room and Vasco follows. “I’ll try to talk him into letting Green Blood join us on occasion. That’ll mean you and the pretty flower will come along too, I expect.” 

Vasco shrugs. “I can go out if my presence is needed, so long as Elizabet comes along too. That was the arrangement that was made and I intend to stick to it.” 

***

“You have chemical burns from the poison on your forearm that haven’t healed well,” she says to her very grumpy brother. “Why weren’t you taking healing potions? There are plants you can grind into a paste that would have helped as well.” 

“Not all of us waste our time reading medical textbooks,” he says, wincing as she cleans the burn. “Would you stop being so rough with me?” He snaps, yanking his arm away from her. 

“I’m being as gentle as I can! This would not be nearly as unpleasant if you had been treating your wound properly from the moment you received it. Or if I were there to heal you.” Extending her hand, Loïc offers his arm back to her and she continues her treatment. “You’re worse than Vasco,” she mutters under her breath. 

“Don’t say that man’s name around me!” 

Glowering at him, slowly and emphatically she says the name of her partner. 

“How mature of you.”

“At least I don’t throw a tantrum like a child when I hear the name of someone I do not like,” she snaps, opening her jar of salve with more force than necessary, the lid falling to the floor, startling her. With her fingers, she scoops up a dollop of it and begins rubbing it into the burn. “What were the ruins like?” 

“I need to speak with Constantin about them. We found an old Congregation seal as well as a journal. The Congregation tried to colonize the island centuries ago but were driven away. Why didn’t we know about this?” 

Not a surprising revelation; the ruins Siora showed her looked similar to old buildings in Sérène. And her tale of the guardians appearing to drive off the invaders only added to her suspicion. 

“Same reason we don’t know about a lot of things: Uncle Adrien likes to keep his secrets. Admittedly I’m surprised he never told you,” she pauses, looking up from his arm. “He didn’t tell you, did he?” 

“Do you think I’d have traveled to the middle of nowhere, getting myself poisoned if I knew?” He winces, trying to pull his arm back. “That hurts!” 

Impatiently, she offers the jar to him and he dips his fingers into it, applying the salve to the burn himself. “You should speak to Admiral Cabral. The Nauts keep good records and will be able to tell you more,” she says. 

“I’d really rather not deal with the Nauts.” 

Elizabet huffs. “Then don’t find out the mysterious history of the Congregation on the island. You’re the legate; it’s not my responsibility.” 

“Just ask your Naut for me, would you?” Loïc points to his arm. “Am I free to go?” 

Grabbing a bandage, she wraps it around the wound. “You’ll need to change your bandages daily. Find me and I’d be happy to help you. I should be looking at it anyway; it went several days without appropriate treatment and I fear it could fester.” 

“Is there anything in this world you aren’t afraid of?” 

This hits a nerve and when she responds, it’s with anger that Vasco would be proud of. “Do you want to lose that arm, Loïc? Because if the wound goes bad, that could happen. Or it could enter your blood and kill you. Have you ever seen a death caused by a festering wound? Just how horrific and painful it is? Would you stop being a damned idiot and have just a little respect for my knowledge?” 

“You’re too good for this.”

“Shall I describe to you what an amputation is like? What it is like to cut through bone? How you will feel phantom pains where your limb once was? Imagine an itch you can never scratch. Imagine it!”

“Fine. You’ve made your point. I’ll find you and let you treat me.” Loïc stands up and walks out of the room, not bothering to thank her for helping him. Not that she expected a thank you; that would mean acknowledging the usefulness of her skills. 

She finds Vasco and Kurt in the dining room. Vasco applauds when he sees her. “That was an excellent lecture. Almost enough to scare me into being a good patient when you need to patch me up.” 

“No lecture I give could ever be that effective,” she says, and Kurt snorts. 

“She has you there. You are a special kind of stubborn.” 

“I am,” Vasco acknowledges, “but I also prefer not to upset Elizabet too much which means I’m more liable to cooperate. That and I do respect your knowledge and skills.” 

“So what were you two chatting about?” 

“I was just telling the sailor about the ruins we found.” 

“Loïc told me about them too. I find it rather amazing to think that the Congregation was here centuries ago, even if I’m not surprised by the revelation.”

“The Natives won’t easily accept that your people were the invaders from centuries ago,” Vasco warns her. “Not without a long chew, at least.” 

“Did you know anything about this?”

Vasco shakes his head. “Nothing. Admiral Cabral likely would, but that particular tale is well above my rank. Your brother will need to approach her.” 

“Is she likely to share the story?” 

“I’m... not sure,” Vasco says slowly. “That this isn’t common knowledge means it was kept secret for one reason or another. If that is the case, it won’t be knowledge that is given up easily. She will ask for something in return.” 

“Money?” 

Vasco shakes his head. “More likely help with some task she’d be unable to get done on her own. Something requiring diplomacy or a delicate touch.” 

“Surely she must know that employing just his help is likely to end in disaster, yes?” Loïc cannot stand Nauts; he’s never had fond feelings towards the guild thanks to Uncle Adrien but since her and Vasco have fallen in love it has turned into outright loathing. 

“I’ve told her that it would be best to ensure you are involved in matters concerning our people. I expect she will ask that you and I assist in whatever she needs.”

“How bad was it?” She asks Kurt. “I’m worried about him. Did you not bring enough healing potions?” 

“There was more fighting than we’d planned for,” Kurt admits with an expression conveying deep guilt on his face. “It wasn’t great, I’ll tell you that. But I kept watch while Aphra worked through the night to figure out how to make the antidote. Had she not been able to do so, the plan was to send Petrus and I through the mine to the town to fetch help.” 

“I can brew some potions before you all go out next. If Loïc won’t pack them, would you mind distributing them amongst yourself and everyone else? I don’t want this to happen again.”

Loïc has always had a certain carelessness to him. A product of spending so much time with Constantin, who is similar. He’s convinced he’s untouchable. Some days she wonders if he thinks himself immortal. 

“I’ll try to convince him to bring you along for the missions that take us out into the bush. We could use someone with your skills,” Kurt says. 

“Then I’m coming along too,” Vasco responds, barely giving Kurt a chance to finish speaking and giving him a pointed look that she doesn’t quite understand. 

“Loïc would keep me safe; I’m sure it would be fine...” 

“No,” Vasco says firmly. “I love you and I’ll not leave you unprotected. Please let me keep you safe.” 

“The sailor is right - he should come out with you. You’ve fought a lot of beasts but your experience against people is far more limited.” 

“Very well,” she says, accepting that there’s no possible way she’d convince Vasco that he would be fine to remain at the apartment. “Loïc should remain in New Sérène for a week or two to recover. Given how long that poison was wreaking havoc on his body, he’s in worse shape than he would be had he received timely treatment. I fear if he went out right away he would be vulnerable.” 

“Agreed,” Kurt says. “If he gets the bright idea in his head to rush out again, whisper in your cousin’s ear and that’ll put a stop to it quickly.”

“Do you think this is my first time dealing with my unruly brother? I’m well aware of how to keep him in line if he’s determined to be stupid about his safety,” she says with a knowing smirk.


	23. An Offer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Uncle Adrien presents Loïc with an interesting offer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: child abuse

The three of them stand out of sight while they wait for the traitor to be dragged to the square behind a horse. The executioner, who is hooded, stands nearby, waiting for the condemned. 

“With traitors we want them to see everything we do to them so the condemned will be unhooded,” Uncle Adrien explains quietly. 

Looking over, Loïc sees Constantin is pale and shaking. Mother insisted that Ellie was not to attend this execution. And tried to insist that he not attend either. But he wants to be here. He wants to watch a traitor die a traitor’s death. 

The man arrives, dragged behind a large horse on a wooden panel. When offered the chance to repent and confess, the man tries to speak, but stutters so badly that anything that comes out of his mouth is incomprehensible. 

“The coward has had his chance; get on with it,” Uncle Adrien growls. 

It’s unspeakably brutal, but also... thrilling in a way, seeing justice performed. Constantin has to look away at one point and Uncle Adrien gives him a slap. “Watch,” he orders. 

While Uncle Adrien’s head is turned he leans over, whispering in Constantin’s ear, “step back a little and focus on my shoulder. It’ll look like you’re still watching.” Immediately Constantin shuffles back a little. 

Uncle Adrien doesn’t notice. “This executioner is new; he lacks finesse. The most skilled can really draw it out,” his uncle says and Loïc suppresses a shudder. 

“I’m sure in time he will learn his craft,” he says, not knowing what else to say. 

“It pays well, compared to the other jobs the poor can work. But most find it distasteful.” 

“I wonder why?” Constantin says sarcastically. 

“Shut your smart mouth, child!” Constantin winces at his father’s sharp tone and flinches, expecting a slap that never comes. Discreetly Loïc reaches back and brushes his hand against Constantin’s; the most he dares to do in public. 

That night he finds Constantin hiding in his room, his knees folded against his chest. “So... do we talk about it?” Constantin eventually nods his head but looks down at his feet. 

“They could have done that without us watching,” Constantin whispers. 

“The sentence was carried out in Uncle Adrien’s name. It is our duty to be there. One day they will be carried out in your name,” he says. 

“I know.” 

“Should I spend the night?” 

“You’ve been doing that a lot,” Constantin says and he frowns in response. “I don’t want to raise suspicion. Elizabet said she’d come by.” 

“Don’t tell her the details of what we saw,” he says. Ellie couldn’t handle it. 

“I won’t; you know that. She won’t like that it happened at all. Not like that, anyway. She’s not fond of the idea of drawing such things out. We’ve been reading a book together. A romance - something light that will take my mind off the unpleasantness.” 

Why does Constantin want to spend time with his sister and not him? Is he not enough? 

“Some people deserve to suffer before they burn in hell,” he says. 

Constantin looks at him and he sees a look of resignation. “Father’s lessons are sticking, I see.” 

“You don’t disagree,” he argues. 

“I don’t,” Constantin acknowledges. “But once you did. And I’m sorry your mind has been changed by my horrible father.” 

“Why don’t you want to spend the evening with me?” 

Constantin looks at him with an expression of the deepest impatience on his face. “We aren’t attached at the hip! Just because we love each other doesn’t mean I can’t spend time with others. I want to visit with Elizabet. And I want to keep our relationship secret. Go... spend time with the other boys at court or something.” 

“And do what?” Spending time with others. Ridiculous. They’re all tiresome and boring. Only Constantin and Ellie are worth his time. 

“Gossip? Go for a walk? I can’t stand all those uppity boys so I don’t know what they do for fun!” 

“I think I’ll just go to bed early,” he snaps, standing up to leave the room. 

He hears the sound of Constantin calling, “don’t be like that!” as he slams the door behind him. 

***

“As much as my son likes the Coin Arena, he finds watching anything more drawn out than a hanging unpleasant,” Uncle Adrien says, speaking to him as if they were at a fencing match while a man gets disembowelled 100 metres from them. 

“To be fair to him, it is unpleasant. But necessary. The people must see the consequences of crossing the d’Orsay family,” he says. 

“Spilling entrails on the ground tends to send the message thoroughly. When my son inherits my position he must show the same strength. Our enemies can sense even a moment’s weakness.” 

“There will be no weakness, Uncle,” he says. 

His uncle looks sideways and smirks at him. “I’m aware. I trained you myself. You’ll keep my son from making a mess of things.” 

Uncle Adrien opts not to take the carriage back to the palace so instead they walk, with several Coin Guards close by to protect them. His uncle’s knee has been gradually getting worse; while he tries to hide it, Uncle Adrien is limping. 

With anyone else of his standing he’d offer an arm. But Uncle Adrien would see it only as weakness. 

“I spoke to your mother about making you my heir,” Uncle Adrien says. “She was unhappy at the prospect and said you were to inherit her title. Constantin’s name also came out of her mouth; she was most concerned about how hurt he would be to lose his birthright.” 

He can’t take Constantin’s place; his darling would be devastated. He might never forgive him. 

“I told her I would give you the choice. Would you rather remain your mother’s heir or become mine?” 

Such an important question requires a careful answer. If he doesn’t answer perfectly, he could lose his uncle’s favour, which would cause problems for Constantin. “Uncle Adrien, I think it would be more advantageous for our family if I remain Mother’s heir,” he says. 

Uncle Adrien raises his eyebrow. “Explain.” 

“If I’m your heir, my sister becomes Mother’s heir. Do you really want to find out how she handles life at court? How often she runs away crying because there are too many people in the room? She would humiliate us.” 

“Go on,” Uncle Adrien says. 

“And she’s already sullied the De Sardet name by whoring herself out to a Naut.” 

He’s betraying Ellie to protect Constantin. A necessary betrayal but it hurts to do so. 

“I saw a very strange room in your wing of the palace. Full of all sorts of medical instruments and a surgical table. What is that room for?” 

“I...” Ellie is training in medicine. She has this ridiculous idea that she could be a doctor. While he’s discouraged her training he hasn’t revealed it to Uncle Adrien and hadn’t planned on it. 

“Tell me, boy,” Uncle Adrien says in a dangerous tone of voice. The one telling him that if he doesn’t, he’s liable to take a beating. Or Constantin is in his stead. 

“Ellie has discovered she has healing magic, Uncle. She wants to be a doctor and has been training in Bridge Alliance techniques. That room is where she practices on carcasses she gets from the kitchen.” 

He didn’t want to reveal Ellie’s secret. But if he didn’t, Constantin could have been threatened. After all, he can’t protect Constantin from his uncle if he’s lost favour with the man. He has to protect his darling. He tries to justify it in his mind by telling himself he had already betrayed her when he told their uncle what a terrible heir she would be. 

Uncle Adrien laughs. “What a pathetic little hobby. I’ll speak with her and any notion that she could be a doctor will be long gone by the time I’m through with her.” 

“An excellent idea, Uncle,” he says, plastering a false smile on his face as his stomach roils with guilt. 

***

“Where were you?” Constantin rails at him once he’s arrived in his private quarters. “You said you’d be gone for a week and it’s been nearly two!” 

“The fighting and terrain were worse than anticipated. That caused a delay,” he says, trying to sound calm. If they end up unclothed Constantin will see the bandage and is liable to get upset. 

“What attacked you? Bandits? What colours did they wear?” 

“Bandits don’t wear _colours_ , Darling; they wear horrible brown trench coats. It was mostly wild animals.” 

“Were you wounded?” He demands. 

Gingerly, he unbuttons his shirt and groans when he pulls it off and the fabric brushes against the bandages on his right arm. “Got hit by a _dosantat_. They’re like giant bats. Ellie called it a chemical burn. It’s real ugly - red and blistered and leaking all sorts of strange fluids.” 

Constantin gasps and rushes over, examining the bandages as if he can get a sense of his condition through the wrappings. “What are you doing out of bed? My poor Loïc! You should have called for me; I’d have come to your bed side!” 

“I was treated in the field and Ellie did something when I got back. Would you settle down?” He hates it when people fuss over him. 

“You’re in too much danger when you go out. Who were you with? Do we need to be sending guards with you?” 

“No,” he scoffs. “I was with Aphra, Petrus and Kurt. It was fine. Just some bad luck. Darling, please - Ellie was fussing earlier and I’m so sick of it. Can we just enjoy our time together?” 

“Does it hurt terribly?” 

“Not really,” he lies. 

“Well, tell me what you found,” Constantin says, grabbing a bottle of wine and making his way to the bed. He opens it with the bottle opener on his side table and takes a swig out of the bottle before handing it to him. 

“Are we really that lacking in class?” 

“Oh, stop being so stuck-up and drink like the masses with me.” 

He takes a drink and Constantin cannot claim they’re drinking like the masses; no commoner could afford a vintage this good. “Because I’m sure the common folk drink wine that costs 200 gold a bottle,” he deadpans. 

“Well, we can pretend to be poor, anyway. Tell me what you learned!” 

As they pass the bottle back and forth he tells Constantin what they’ve discovered and the significance of it. “Just another thing my father kept from me,” Constantin says, voice tinged with bitterness. “I’m surprised he didn’t tell you; you became the son he always wanted.” 

“I wasn’t his son,” he says. He refused Uncle Adrien’s offer to become his heir and, thus, his son. An offer he never told his darling about because it would have devastated him. 

“You might as well have been. So often he bragged about you to me. ‘Why can’t you be more like your cousin?’ Once I thought to get smart and said I wasn’t nearly as shy as Elizabet is and he hit me in the face.” 

Constantin had never told him that story. He rests a hand on Constantin’s thigh. “Darling, when did this happen? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Elizabet healed the worst of it. You know what he is. He favoured you and I didn’t want to threaten that. Not when Elizabet was around to commiserate about Adrien d’Orsay. She hates him almost as much as I do as a result of that nasty arranged marriage business and the fact that he told her she couldn’t be a doctor.” 

Rationally he knows that what Adrien did to him was wrong. That taking a child to watch a man get drawn and quartered is inappropriate. But he was 14 and it was when Uncle Adrien’s lessons really began to sink in. To be respected, you must be strong. And when someone crosses you, strength is brutality. 

So many of his lessons were cruel, but that is the nature of this world. To survive; to thrive, one must be cruel. Otherwise you’re prone to being taken advantage of. 

Cavorting with the masses would hurt his respectability among his peers. And, while Uncle Adrien never said so out loud, the rumours of his affair with Constantin already hurt that respectability. He’s fighting at a disadvantage so Adrien taught him how to throw mud in the face of his opponents and win. A whisper in the ear of the right person destroys a rival’s reputation. If something threatens the strength of the Congregation, find a way to weaken it. Like blowing up the Cave of Saint Matheus. 

Ellie just had to intervene and find evidence that survived the gunpowder. Now Thélème is under threat of a schism. A weakened Thélème could mean instability for the Congregation. His sister is an utter fool. Too soft to do what is necessary for the good of their people. 

“We received a message from a village who claims to be having issues with logging and mining that is being done on their territory. It is Congregation citizens who are involved in the conflict,” Constantin says. “Is that something worth looking into?” 

“No,” he says with a laugh. “Our people should take everything they can. How else will our nation prosper, Darling?” 

“Well, when you put it like that! The Natives did sign contracts, after all. What would we ever do without you, my lucky star?” 

“I think you need me,” he says. 

Constantin leans in to kiss him. “Just as much as you need me.”


	24. Standing-in

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elizabet meets Dunncas and discovers something concerning about Constantin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: brief reference to dying by suicide and discussion of past abuse.

Constantin is morose, but trying to hide it as he normally does: with jokes and an over-compensation of good cheer. Loïc doesn’t notice it, but Elizabet does. 

“Shall we go for a walk in Mother’s rose garden during Loïc’s lesson with your father?” She asks him. 

“Doesn’t your mother need you to care for her?” 

Mother wasn’t well enough to dine with them at breakfast. “I was up early with her and have done all I can for now. I can certainly take some time out of my day to go for a walk.” 

Constantin tries to maintain the facade when they get outside. “You’ve hidden your sorrows from Loïc successfully but not from me. What pains you?” she asks. 

“It doesn’t matter.” 

“It does to me,” she insists. “What don’t you want him to know?” 

He sighs heavily and sits down on a marble bench next to a bush of white roses. She sits beside him and plucks two roses off the bush, handing one to Constantin. “Father told me that he wishes Loïc was his son and not me,” Constantin says. “That it would be better if I didn’t exist.”

She knows Constantin wants his father’s approval, even if he pretends otherwise. “I know how much that must have hurt you.” 

“It doesn’t matter,” Constantin says quickly, plucking petals off the rose in his hand, “he’s just an angry old man, obsessed with an ideal I’ll never live up to. And it’s a stupid one. It’s better that Loïc has his approval and not me.” 

If only Uncle Adrien could see the value of the son he has, rather than the fantasy of the son that will never exist. 

“Still, it must hurt to know he has his approval and not you.” 

This hits Constantin where it hurts and he lets out a small whimper as his bottom lip trembles. Then, as quickly as it came, it disappears. “Well, he has to attend executions and do all the ugly things rulers do. And I get to go to the tavern and brothel, and lay with beautiful women because we must keep the suspicion off us. I’ve got the better deal in the end.” 

That Constantin sleeps with women - even out of necessity devastates her brother. Admittedly she feels uncomfortable being in the middle like this: Constantin’s pain over not being the golden child versus Loïc’s hurt over Constantin’s infidelity. 

“Why don’t you come with me? We could get you a beautiful woman to lay with! Someone who actually knows what they’re doing!” 

“I’m good, thanks. I’ve never been interested in spending time with a prostitute. Do you wish Loïc never offered himself up to your father?” She’s not going to let Constantin change the subject. Not when he’s so clearly unhappy. 

“No. I wouldn’t still be here otherwise.” 

“What do you mean?” She dreads hearing the answer. 

“Father was so awful to me. You remember what it was like: the pressure, the expectations I was never going to meet... I couldn’t take it anymore. I ran away. To join the Nauts or drown myself... I don’t know,” Elizabet’s heart sinks as she hears this, “Loïc followed. And this was the solution he offered. He’d become Father’s protege and take the pressure off.” 

“I’m glad you’re still here,” she says, resting her head on his shoulder. 

“It worked. And I’m grateful for it most of the time. But you know how it changed him.” 

“I do.” She hates how her brother has changed. 

“I resent him sometimes. I’m grateful but I resent him so much. Some nights when I’m inside a woman at the brothel, I think that it serves Loïc right: he hurt me by being too good at being Father’s son so I’ll find my pleasure from someone else.” 

She wishes either of them had someone else to talk to about these matters. Because she can’t take sides. And she can’t say anything that will risk tearing them apart. Could Loïc and Constantin ever live without one another? She doubts it. 

“I think you’re allowed to feel both feelings. Can you talk to him? Maybe he can help show your father just how valuable you are.” 

Constantin laughs. “Oh Elizabet, if only others were as kind as you. Father will never see it. You know how he is. He won’t let you be what you want to be either.” 

Because of Loïc. But she won’t ever tell that part of the story to Constantin. She won’t cause conflict between them - ever. “There might be ways I could be a doctor after Mother...” She can’t say it. Can’t acknowledge that Mother is going to die. 

“How?” 

“Doctors cover their faces. Nobody would know it was a noble treating them if I can disguise my accent well enough. Or, if I really wanted to get away, maybe the Nauts would see value in having a doctor?” 

“Then you could find a beautiful Naut of your own, Elizabet! You’ve always liked them!” 

“That wouldn’t be my main intention but yes, I would not mind that in the least.” 

She’s given up on searching for love. Nobody seems to want her in that way and she’s spent enough bad evenings and nights with people. Better to be alone and happy than constantly disappointed by terrible sex and worse companionship. 

“I’d come with you if Loïc weren’t so strangely opposed to the Nauts. I think he just dislikes the tattoos. He’s a bit stuffy that way,” Constantin says and Elizabet laughs in response. 

“I’d love to see you try to do the things Nauts do. Then again, you did climb the ramparts that one time and I had to rescue you so maybe you’d be a good Naut after all.” 

“I’d be the best Naut they ever had, Elizabet!” 

She smiles at Constantin and then turns serious. “Don’t tell Loïc about my plans to become a doctor. He wouldn’t approve.” And he would tell Uncle Adrien. 

“You know I won’t say anything. We keep each other’s secrets.” And she knows he will; frequently they talk about very sensitive matters that would cause trouble for them both if anyone knew. 

“Loïc would look so handsome in Naut tattoos, don’t you think? I wonder if I could convince him to draw some on for a night of fun?” 

“He’s my brother, Constantin. You’re the better judge of how appealing he would look with tattoos,” she says. “By all means, ask him, but I’ll be shocked if he agrees to humour you.” 

“I’ll ask and report back.” 

“Please don’t.” 

***

The paperwork has been on the embassy desk downstairs for over two weeks now. Ignored by Loïc because it concerns Vigidigaw - a Native village. Apparently they’ve been having some issues with Congregation subjects not abiding by the treaties that have been made. 

Really, it’s the sort of task for a legate. But since her brother will never find the time to get to it, she suggests that her, Vasco and Siora head out. 

“May I join?” Aphra asks as she comes down the stairs and into the sitting room. “I’ve been wanting to make more connections with the islanders and learn more about their transformations.” 

“Will Loïc need you?” 

“Would you stop me if he did?” 

“No,” Elizabet admits. “We’re planning to leave in the morning and would love to have you along. I’m going to let Petrus know what’s going on; if the news comes from him, my brother is more likely to accept it.” 

Loïc sees Petrus as an equal. The rest of them are little more than the dirt caught in the treads of his boots. 

“Elizabet, what is with your brother?” Aphra asks while they’re hiking to Vigyidigaw. 

“Well...” She says slowly, trying to figure out how to respect her brother’s privacy while offering insight into how he became who he is. “He had private lessons with my uncle. My uncle is a shrewd man and Loïc learned his lessons well. If something does not benefit him and... our family, then he does not do it.” 

“That makes no sense, though. Were that true he wouldn’t treat you as he does,” Aphra says. “He’s cruel.” 

“He is,” Siora agrees. “You are kind and do not deserve to be treated that way. Kurt is more of a brother to you than Loïc.” 

Deep down she knows Siora is right. 

“I’m... outside of his sphere. He disapproves of several decisions I’ve made.” 

“By which she means her decision to lay with a Naut,” Vasco adds. 

“It’s plenty more than just that. My dream to be a doctor is most unsuitable. I’m a slut. I’m terrible at politics.” 

“What is a slut?” Siora asks. 

“An unkind word describing women who have spent the night with many people,” she explains. 

Siora is aghast. “What is wrong with that? Why do _renaigse_ shame people for sex? There is no shame in it if it is wanted by both people.” 

“You are correct,” she says. “In the Congregation, nobility are expected to marry other nobles. We do not get to choose who we marry; our families make agreements with other families. That I’ve chosen not to go that route is... embarrassing. But I don’t care. I love Vasco.” 

Vasco reaches over and takes her hand. “Love you too,” he whispers. 

“My brother has admirable qualities. They can just be hard to see sometimes.” 

She can’t bring herself to be completely critical of Loïc. 

“Don’t think they’ve invented a microscope that can find his good qualities yet,” Aphra says. 

“What’s a microscope?” Siora asks. 

When she arrives in Vigyidigaw and speaks with the village _mal_ and _doneigad_ , Dunncas, she discovers that it’s simply a matter of getting some paperwork ordering the non-compliant Congregation citizens to cease their activities. Instead of walking back to New Sérène, she opts to send a letter with a messenger, asking that the required paperwork be couriered back to her in Vigyidigaw, giving them several days to wait. 

Dunncas is kind enough to offer them hospitality, giving them the use of an empty cabin. 

“I’d like to learn more and I believe I have an opportunity. I’ve befriended a couple; Morian and Yewan. I’m told there is a ritual tonight but I was not given permission to witness it. Would you come with me? We can follow from afar and stay hidden,” Aphra says. 

“You cannot do this! The ritual is a secret,” Siora says, crossing her arms. 

“I agree with Siora. I am willing to speak with Dunncas and ask for his permission, but I will not witness this ritual by deception.” 

Leaving the cabin, she wanders to Dunncas’ abode and knocks on the door. He looks curiously at her and invites her in, offering her a cup of tea. 

“It is because of Aphra that you’ve come,” Dunncas says, lifting his tea to his lips and taking a sip. She follows suit; it’s some variety of herbal tea made from the plants of the island. 

“Yes,” she admits. “I recognize the need for secrecy. And you have my word that I will not witness this ritual via deceptive means. Tell me, have you heard of the malichor?” 

“It is a disease, is it not? I’ve spoken with several _renaigse_ who have said it affects those of the continent strongly.” 

“Yes. My twin brother, Loïc and I lost our mother to it. Aphra looks for a solution to it and she suspects that the transformation your people undertake may be key.” 

“I fear what she learns will disappoint her,” Dunncas says. “Come with us tonight. If you wish to learn, we will teach you.” 

It’s remarkable, the grace shown by Dunncas and the rest of the village. Over the next few days the two of them are taught by Dunncas, and then they journey to the Cave of Knowledge with Vasco and Siora. 

“This isn’t what I expected,” Aphra says. “But I appreciate it all the same. Thank you for helping me with this.” 

“I’m happy to have been able to facilitate an opportunity for you to learn. This was a good time too, since we are still waiting for that paperwork,” she says. 

Several days later the four of them are honoured with the opportunity to watch Yewan’s bonding ceremony. A ceremony interrupted by several rifle-wielding people of the Bridge Alliance. “We need to protect everyone,” she says, somewhat nervously. 

Most of her combat experience has been against animals. Not people. “Keep shields up and fire from range,” Vasco tells her, pulling out his pistol and firing at one of the attackers, sending him crumpling to the ground. 

She manages to hit someone in the leg before they’re able to attack one of the village elders, allowing Siora to finish her off. Aphra throws a well-aimed grenade that takes out three at once. 

“We should move their bodies,” Aphra says to the three of them once the attackers have all fallen. “So they can finish the ceremony.” 

Dunncas approaches. “It appears your presence has saved a number of lives tonight. Thank you.” He turns to Aphra. “I recognize how difficult it must have been to turn on your own people.” 

“They were hardly people, but you have no idea... I recognized some of these people” she says. 

Aphra worked with several of these people alongside a man named Doctor Asili, which suggests he is now abducting _on ol menawi_ for his experiments. 

A thought that sickens her. A doctor, doing such cruelties? It’s despicable. “We need to stop this,” she says and Aphra nods, looking grave. 

“Allow us to clear the bodies so the ceremony can go on,” Elizabet says. “I’m unsure what you wish to do with them after the fact, but I leave that decision with you.” 

“Thank you Elizabet,” Aphra says once more. “I’m glad it was you I did all of this with.” 

***

She expects an argument when the four of them return. Disappearing without telling a Loïc directly will have infuriated him. That she told Constantin, the embassy staff and left him a note means nothing. 

“I need to speak with my sister. Alone,” Loïc says when they get through the door, late in the evening. 

They’re all filthy from the road, tired and sore. All she wants is a bath. “Can it please wait until morning? I’d like to take a bath and go to bed.” 

“You should have thought of that before leaving without my permission.” Loïc turns to the other three. “Out.” 

“It’s fine,” she says. Turning to Vasco, she addresses him directly, “I’ll meet you in our quarters as soon as I’m done. Go and get some rest.” 

Reluctantly, Vasco leaves, following Siora and Aphra upstairs. She sits across from her brother. “I did not give you permission to leave.” 

“I had not realized I needed your permission,” she says coolly. “Constantin knew and was fine with it. The requests we dealt with had been on the desk downstairs for more than two weeks. I arrived just in time to save the lives of numerous villagers and have won the respect of Dunncas, the leader of Vigyidigaw.” After a pause, she adds, “you’re welcome.” 

“You may work for Constantin but you live under my roof. I can order you to remain here when you are not dealing with matters Constantin has ordered you to assist with.” 

“And I can leave and you’ll never see me again,” she snaps. 

Now that Vasco has been reinstated, if he explained the situation, he could probably get his ship back. He hasn’t because she’s felt obligated to do all she can to help both the Natives and the Nauts since Loïc has been disinterested in assisting them. 

In order for Loïc De Sardet to give you the time of day, you need a title and money. 

Loïc’s face falls at that proclamation. “You would do such a hurtful thing, Ellie?” 

“If necessary.” 

“What happened between us?” 

“You truly don’t know, do you?” She says, in disgusted shock. “Take a closer look at the scar on my lip and you’ll understand why I started to keep my distance.” 

“I don’t know where you got that scar from,” he says dismissively. 

Her eyes well up. One of the worst moments of her life and he cannot remember that he was the one who gave her that scar. It means that little to him that he hurt her in that way. “Fuck you, Loïc De Sardet,” she says in an angry whisper, standing up and walking out of the room, forcing herself to hold her head high and walk with a confidence she does not feel. 

In their quarters, she locks the door and quickly undresses. Finding Vasco soaking in tub, she walks in and he turns and looks concerned when he sees her. “Get in the tub with me, Tempest.” 

Nodding, she steps in carefully, turning her body so she’s resting against his chest, her face in the crook of his neck. Vasco strokes her hair. 

Composure escapes her as a result of his tender touch. She breaks down and weeps in his arms. Vasco says nothing - something she is grateful for because she cannot tell him why she hurts so deeply. Not without enraging him. Vasco would go after her brother if he knew Loïc beat her, even if it was years ago. And Loïc would kill him. 

When the tears finally stop, the water has cooled; still lukewarm but hardly the comfort it was when she stepped in. Vasco turns the tap, filling the tub with more hot water. “Let’s get you cleaned up and then we will go to bed,” he says. 

“I’m sorry I’m such a mess,” she whispers. “Please forgive me.”

“There is nothing to forgive. You carry a burden I’ll never understand. And all I can do is support you through it, until we are able to return home.” 

The next morning she goes to the palace and sits in Constantin’s office with him. “I’m sorry I was away for so long,” she says. 

“According to your report you managed to smooth things over with Vigyidigaw, did you not? Loïc is a busy man; if you’re able to take on these sorts of things when he is unable to, you’re still doing your job.” Constantin straightens the papers in front of him and hands them to her for filing. She stands up and opens the cabinet, eyes wide when a disorganized mess is revealed to her. 

Apparently two weeks away is enough for chaos to ensue when Constantin doesn’t have someone to file his paperwork for him. 

It’s going to take all day to sort this out. “I was pleased to be able to help. Will you need me to take notes during any of your meetings?” 

“No, I’ve just got a long day of reading and signing my name to look forward to,” Constantin says, sounding dreadfully bored. “Would your sweetheart have any interest in a quick visit to the tavern this afternoon? Break out the day a bit?” 

“I could ask him,” she says as she is going through the papers and trying to find some semblance of order. “I’ll be busy sorting this cabinet out, though.” 

“No, you won’t be!” Constantin exclaims. “I won’t allow it! You, Vasco and I are going to the tavern!” 

So much for turning over a new leaf, she thinks. “We can go for _a_ drink,” she says. 

“Yes, fine, a single drink,” Constantin says impatiently. 

As soon as they arrive it’s clear that ‘single drink’ was too loose a definition. Because, apparently a bottle of wine is a single drink if one has it all to themselves. 

Never mind that house wine is available by the glass. Not that her cousin would ever sink so low as to drink house wine like the masses. 

Vasco is nursing a whiskey, same as her. “Can you believe this is my first time in this Coin Tavern? It’s been months of discipline. Getting to let loose is fantastic,” Constantin says. 

“Why go out with the two of us? Wouldn’t you rather spend time with Loïc?” 

“Your dear brother just left to investigate some sort of lead the Bridge Alliance gave him. Someone who makes some sort of cure? He’ll be gone for at least a week so I thought to ease my loneliness with the two of you,” he says, taking a drink from his glass. 

That her brother will be gone for awhile is a relief. A relief that makes her tremendously uncomfortable. 

“So, Captain Vasco, would you regale us with a tale of high seas adventure?” 

Vasco looks amused by the enthusiasm of the request. “I suppose I could. On Hikmet’s side of the island is where humpback whales have their calves. The water around here is warmer than it is up north - good for raising babies, I suppose. Last year we were sailing around the island doing cargo runs and ended up becalmed off Hikmet’s coast. More an inconvenience than anything, but we are at the mercy of the wind and sea.” 

“What do you do if you’re stuck at sea?” Constantin asks. 

“Wait. Not much else to do,” Vasco says. “This time of year was calving season so, while we were stuck off the coast, we were surrounded by dozens of humpback whales. They’re playful animals; fond of breaching.” 

“Breaching?” Elizabet asks. 

“Leaping out of the water,” Vasco says. “There are worse things in this world than being stuck at sea watching dozens of whales and their offspring swim around your ship. I was almost disappointed when the wind picked up again the next day.” 

“How magnificent! How could I see such a sight?” Constantin asks Vasco. 

“We’re coming up on the time they’ll be in these waters, so plan a trip to Hikmet. You can frequently see them from the shore but if not, there would probably be a Naut at port willing to take you out in a fishing boat for the right price,” Vasco says. 

“I’ll suggest it to Loïc. We’ve never gone on a trip that is just the two of us. I’m sure he’ll love it.”

Her and Vasco look at one another and neither responds. 

“Have you two gone on anymore romantic excursions? You booked that hotel awhile back.” 

“While we’ve periodically travelled together, we have not done so on our own,” Elizabet says, taking a sip from her drink and noting that Constantin is quickly growing intoxicated. 

Hopefully she can keep him from wrecking the furniture here. She does not want to find out if Kurt’s woodworking lessons have stuck. 

“You two should go somewhere! Or - wait. A better idea!” Constantin’s voice is loud, almost booming and several patrons at other tables are staring. “You can come with us! A couple’s trip to watch the whales!” 

“I... don’t think that’s a good idea,” she says carefully. “I think Loïc would prefer it just be the two of you. You are getting a little loud.” 

“Oh, let everyone hear me! He would get over it. It’s a chance for him and Vasco to bond!” 

“I’m afraid that... they’re too different. It is unlikely Loïc will ever develop any fondness for Vasco.” Vasco nods in agreement. 

Constantin deflates noticeably, slumping in his seat. “You’re no fun. I want to travel with my lucky star, my cousin and her lover. I’ll talk to him.” 

“Very well,” she says, resigned. There’ll be no talking him out of the idea today. 

Once Constantin finishes his bottle of wine, he tosses a bag of coin at the bartender and they leave. They’re walking back when Constantin stops them, speaking in a strained voice. “Wait.” He rushes into an alley and she looks over at Vasco, who is concerned. They follow, prepared to fend off any bandits, and find Constantin vomiting against a building. 

“Damn,” Constantin says, resting his head against the cool brick of the building. 

“Did you drink too quickly?” He’s intoxicated but not nearly drunk enough to be vomiting - or so she thought. Has he been avoiding alcohol almost entirely these last few months? 

“My stomach has been upset since we arrived. Just had to get it out of my system. I’m fine now.” 

“Constantin, something could be seriously wrong! Allow me to examine you when we return to the palace. It is not normal for an upset stomach to linger this long.” 

“I’m fine, Elizabet,” Constantin says, sounding annoyed. 

“Then let me confirm that you are well. You know the spell doesn’t hurt.” 

Constantin leaves the alley, walking so briskly that her and Vasco have to almost jog to keep up with him. “I don’t need you fussing over me on top of your brother’s fussing. It’s just the food here. That’s it.” 

“Would you allow me to spend the night, at least? Loïc isn’t here to watch over you and I’m unsure if you should be alone. We can make an evening of it - eat sweets and gossip about the idiot nobles we’ve encountered,” she says, silently pleading for him to accept her offer. 

“I could share some more stories?” Vasco suggests. 

“Elizabet, you need not worry. Go back to the apartment and enjoy a romantic evening with your sweetheart. I will eat some soup and take it easy.” Constantin stops outside the apartment and gives her a kiss on the cheek and a hug. “Don’t worry. I mean it.” 

“Just get some rest,” she says. Constantin departs with a wave and she unlocks the door, stepping inside. 

“He always that stubborn about medical matters?” Vasco asks her. 

She turns and gives him a smile. “You have absolutely no moral high ground to judge him, you know, given how much you fought me after that storm.” 

“As I’m well aware. I know I’m a shit patient and so does every member of my crew.” 

“But,” she says, removing her coat and hanging it up, “he does have a stubborn streak similar to your own. My concern is that, deep down he knows something is very wrong but he thinks that if he just ignores it, it will go away.” 

Vasco hangs his own coat up next to hers and kneels down to remove his boots. “You might be right. But, given that he refuses to allow you to examine him, we have to hope he truly is just having trouble adjusting to the food here.” 

“Have you ever had this issue?” 

Vasco stands up, taking her hand and leading her upstairs. “Not really. But I’ve also spent my entire life subsiding on food from all over the world. And tolerating ship rations that serve to fill your belly but little else. Not sure how much good a stale biscuit does but on the worst of the voyages I’ve been on, I suspect the restoratives we take that are meant to stave off scurvy did more to keep me alive than the rations did.” 

“He’s lived in luxury his entire life. Eaten food prepared by cooks. Maybe there is something about the food here that isn’t agreeing with him...” 

“Well, he did tell you to have a romantic evening with me. And he is, technically, your boss. So, what will we do together?” Vasco says, changing the subject. 

“Sit in bed, cuddle and read to one another?” 

Vasco rests a hand on the small of her back and kisses her. “Sounds lovely. And perfectly wholesome. I suspect he had more explicit activities in mind when he gave the order.” 

Elizabet giggles. “That’s being saved for later.”


	25. The Ordo Luminis Camp

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elizabet steps in and shuts down the Ordo Luminis camp.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: misogyny

Loïc doesn’t have much interest in actually assisting Derdre free her people from the Ordo Luminis camp. 

Apparently the man was content to put his and Siora’s life at risk for no reason whatsoever. It’s Kurt who quietly brings the matter to Elizabet and him. “Here’s the location of the camp. Derdre asked that Eseld be approached about providing allies to storm the camp.”

“That would mean we should ask if Siora would come along,” she says to Vasco. 

Elizabet leaves a note with the secretary for her brother and the three of them leave the next morning. “A camp meant to torture Natives into converting. It’s horrific,” she says. “We will stop this.” 

Glancing over at Siora, he sees she is just as determined as Elizabet is. As he is. Given what happened back in San Matheus, the matter does feel a little personal. 

Him and Elizabet aren’t privy to the conversation Siora has with her sister. But, they’re offered a handful of warriors, who travel with them to Vedleug. 

Kurt warned him and Elizabet that Derdre would not be welcoming of _renaigse_. That she had sent him, Loïc, Aphra and Petrus out into the swamp and seemed surprised when they all returned. Indeed, she looks at Elizabet, distrust in her eyes. “You are not the _renaigse_ I tasked with this rescue mission.” 

“I am not,” Elizabet says, “I am his twin sister. Loïc was unavailable, but rest assured that I am also trained in combat and, as requested, I have sought the assistance of Eseld and her people. Eseld’s sister, Siora, is a companion of mine and my partner,” she gestures to him, “Vasco, is a very capable fighter.” 

“I dislike the Ordo Luminis, just as you do. They put my people to the fire as well,” he says. “Will do my heart good to drive my blade through a few of them.”

“Several of my storm warriors will accompany you,” Derdre says. 

Derdre only trusts them because she has no other choice, that much is clear to him. But, as they approach the camp, there is a measure of satisfaction that he feels. He’ll be getting vengeance on behalf of his people and the Natives who have been kidnapped. 

“Your shield spell is powerful - why not focus on defence while Siora and I do most of the fighting?” He suggests as they approach the camp. The plan is for the islanders to clear the outside of the camp; they’ll handle everything indoors and free the prisoners. 

“I can do that. But what if you need help fighting?” 

“Then step in. But I trust you to watch our backs.” 

His suggested strategy has an additional purpose: keeping her from having to take too many lives. He was 16 the first time he killed someone. It’s a burden he’s used to. But Elizabet need not become used to it if she does not have to. 

That, and he wants to be the one to deal with as many of those twisted fucks as possible for what they’ve done here. His blade goes through the first attacker smoothly; the man wielded magic and wore a priest’s frock and not proper armour. He falls to the ground, twitching. Vasco steps over the body and moves on to his next attacker. Wearing heavier armour this time, the man wields a sword and puts up more of a fight. A blast of shadow finishes him off and he looks over at Elizabet. 

“I wasn’t going to let him hurt you,” she says. Bending down, he finds a set of keys and hands them to her. 

He recognizes the next person he kills - a man he killed from afar with a shot from his pistol. The man was one of the ones outside the home he broke into. Had De Sardet been unable to talk their way out of trouble, the man very well could have tortured him and Siora. Or lit their pyre. 

“The man is dead now,” he mutters to himself in an attempt to return to the present. To fight off the flashbacks to that awful day when he was so convinced he would die a death worse than any he can imagine. 

Before unlocking the cell they clear the area so none of the prisoners end up caught in the crossfire. Six Ordo Luminis die by their hands. Upstairs in an office, Elizabet goes through paperwork and finds the names of several people who have permission to enter this camp. “The Mother Cardinal will find this interesting,” she says. “Hopefully this leads to their arrests.” 

They find 10 surviving islanders imprisoned indoors. Elizabet frees them. “We’ll ensure you make it home to Vedleug safely,” she says. “Does anyone need healing?” 

Another reason why he suggested she take a defensive position in combat. Several of the prisoners are injured and need healing from her and Siora. It still amazes him to watch as she closes wounds and burns using magic alone. “You’re improving quickly,” he says to her. 

“I’ve had a few opportunities to practice, unfortunately.” 

The injuries are consistent with torture. Raw wrists from shackles, burned limbs and the odd lashes from a whip. These people suffered. Opening his bag, he gives out healing potions to help with the injuries Elizabet is unable to manage. 

The walk to Vedleug is slow with the injured islanders so they don’t make it back until the next evening. There’s a young woman with burns to the soles of her feet that he carries most of the way so she does not need to walk. 

Derdre gives Elizabet a subtle nod of approval as she greets her people and escorts the wounded to their infirmary. “I should offer to help but I’m not sure if it would be welcomed,” she says, sounding nervous. 

“I will come with you. If we both volunteer then she is likely to accept your aid as well as mine,” Siora suggests. 

“I can do whatever you need too. Boil water or cut bandages - anything I can be useful with,” he says, recognizing that Derdre is least likely to tolerate his presence among the most vulnerable of her people. 

Siora speaks with Derdre, who approaches him and Elizabet. “You heal?” Elizabet nods nervously. “We would accept your help. You have already shown that you are a _carants_ of my people through your actions yesterday.” 

“Would you give permission for Vasco to help as an assistant?” Derdre looks over at him before meeting her eyes and giving her a curt nod. 

“I’ll send what we discovered with Petrus the next time he travels to San Matheus. I will not leave you two undefended outside the city,” she says. 

He hasn’t returned to San Matheus yet. When they all dug through the rubble of the cave, Aphra stayed outside the city with him and Siora while Elizabet went with Petrus to speak to the Mother Cardinal. They didn’t linger in the city either; while she’d been invited to dine with the Mother Cardinal, Elizabet gave her regrets and they left for New Sérène that day. 

“Thank you,” he says quietly. The idea of going into that city again frightens him. 

They end up staying three days. Most of his time is spent in the infirmary, making himself useful however he can. Speaking to elders in broken _Yecht Fradí_ , boiling water, chopping herbs and making healing potions. “Your lessons were effective,” he says as he hands her his latest batch. 

“Just part of my ingenious plan to get myself a Naut assistant,” she jokes, before turning serious. “Thank you. Your assistance here means a lot. It has allowed me to do more for everyone who needs our help.” 

In those three days he thinks about how one day this will be her life. Not in a village here on the island, but at sea on his ship. She’ll be keeping his crew alive, treating illness, mending broken bones and stitching wounds. 

“Is there a healer here who would be willing to teach me?” She asks Derdre when she stops in to check on her people. 

“No. You are already more talented than our best healer. When people are in need of a skilled healer we must send someone to another village in search of help,” Derdre says. “We are known more for our skill in battle than our magical abilities.” 

“I’m glad we were able to stay and help, then,” Elizabet says. 

He notices Derdre hesitate before opting to leave without saying another word and he finds himself wondering if Elizabet was about to get an invitation to join the clan. 

Derdre likes Elizabet; that much is obvious to him. A woman who does not trust outsiders has given her trust to Elizabet. 

Elizabet feels at home on the island. That night as they sit by the fire he asks her if she’d rather stay. “Your skills would be welcomed by many villages here,” he says. 

“No, I wouldn’t,” she says, looking at him as if the answer should be obvious. “You’ve been reinstated. Our home is at sea and that is the plan we made together months ago. I could hardly keep you from your home.” 

But would he be keeping her from her home? Elizabet and Loïc both resemble the islanders more than their fellow Congregation citizens. Elizabet uses healing magic only islanders can cast. And Derdre, a woman who has made her disdain for the _renaigse_ clear, looked as if she was about to invite her to remain as a member of her clan. 

He doesn’t know how her and her brother could be from here. It makes no sense at all. But there’s something strange about her and Loïc and he cannot deny it any longer. 

This is not the time to discuss this. So, instead he leans over and gives her a kiss. “You just seem happy here, is all. You feel at home on Tír Fradí.” 

“Outside New Sérène and the other cities I am. I like being out in nature or in the villages. But, honestly, I felt most at home on your ship. It’s strange. At first I thought it was because I had fallen in love with you. Because you’re my home. But there’s something else to it. Being on the Sea Horse felt right... as if, for the first time in my life, I belonged.” 

Words that warm his heart. “Then when you join us, we will be lucky to have you as a volunteer.” 

“Should you have need of our help, you will have it,” Derdre tells Elizabet just before they leave. “You. Not your brother.” 

“Understood,” Elizabet says. “I’ve been taking on most of the tasks your people have asked of my brother so, while I can’t guarantee you’ll never see him again, I don’t imagine he’d be foolish enough to darken your doorstep.” 

After all, she did apparently send him out into the swamp to get killed by the village _nadaig_. Loïc is many things but foolish is not one of them. 

Back to New Sérène. Back to real life. She must see his gloominess because she takes his hand. “This won’t be forever. Soon we’ll be home.” 

He hopes she is right. 

***

“I’m surprised you made it back. Derdre is ruthless - she sent me to die in the swamps,” Loïc says to Elizabet the morning after they returned to the apartment. 

“I came offering help and earned her respect. You came questioning her people’s beliefs; are you surprised she reacted with distrust?” 

“You weren’t at the ritual. It was disgusting. Barbaric.” 

“I saw nothing concerning in the village. Their rituals are not the ones we grew up with but I respect their way of life. It would be wise for you to do the same,” she says. She stands up from the dining room table. “Can I leave now? I need to get to the palace.” 

“You do not. I’ll be spending the day with Constantin so you can do whatever it is you do when you don’t work,” Loïc says. “And, if I’m to be honest, the only Native leader I’ve met with any value is Ullan. He wants to work with our people.” 

“From what Siora tells me, he looks to sell the island to the highest bidder,” she says, disgusted by the very prospect. 

Loïc does not share her disgust; instead he looks almost gleeful. “It’s great, right? The Congregation must be sure to win that bid. If the entire island is ours, imagine what we can do? All of the untapped resources...” 

“You’d do to Tír Fradí what our ancestors did to the continent. What Uncle Adrien still does to the land. Exploiting it without renewal. Dunncas and his people heal the land, ensuring it will provide for centuries to come! That is the most wise approach.” 

“But not the one of someone looking to get rich. Ellie, you’d deplete our family’s wealth within a generation if you were in charge. Your children would be cast out onto the streets.” Loïc stands up and walks out of the room. 

“I’ve told you before that I don’t want children,” she calls back to him. 

“You’re a woman. Of course you want children,” he says before shutting the door behind him. 

“For what it’s worth, Tempest, with the life we’ve chosen, I do not wish to have children I cannot raise myself,” Vasco says, entering the room. “I’ve never envisioned myself as a father and will simply enjoy mentoring the young Cabin Boys and Girls who come aboard my ship. And the little ones voyaging with us during their school breaks.” 

“Loïc has always dreamed of having children. He wants a little him to mould in his image, just as Uncle Adrien did with him. But he cannot marry Constantin and have children, obviously.” 

“He’d have to take a wife,” Vasco says. “Is it common for those who have no attraction to the opposite sex to have to marry for the sake of having children?” 

“Generally,” she says. “I’ve heard that sometimes gay men will try to make a match with a lesbian woman - they do what needs to be done for the sake of childbearing then take lovers. Loïc has only ever wanted Constantin, though; I don’t think he would tolerate a political marriage.” 

“Yet he condemns you for opting not to play that game,” Vasco points out. 

“He’s a hypocrite in that way.” 

“In many ways,” Vasco mutters under his breath. 

“Constantin will be expected to marry and have a family. Something that will hurt Loïc very much,” she says. 

“I feel sorry for Constantin’s future wife.” 

“Me too. I don’t think she would realize the danger she would be in,” she says. “Never mind. I don’t want to spend the day discussing my brother’s very complicated love life. I’ve been given the day off rather unexpectedly. Do you have any thoughts?” 

“After so much travel, I think a day resting would be nice. We can go and sit in the garden?” 

“A lovely idea.” They stand up and make their way to the garden, where Vasco gets a small campfire going. 

“It is a little cool out,” he says as he works. “Thought it might be nice to sit by a fire.” 

“You’re getting good at that,” she says. 

“Thought I may as well so I can avoid further mockery from Kurt.” 

The fire ignites and Vasco settles on the bench beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. “Tell me a story?” He asks. 

“What kind of story?” 

“Anything.” 

“As I’m sure you’ll be shocked to learn, I’m not especially feminine. I dislike wearing ball gowns and my clothing is more functional than beautiful. Loïc wears more makeup than I do. Hell, you do too with your eyeliner,” she says. 

“It’s kohl; not eyeliner, and it’s for practical reasons,” Vasco grumbles. “Keeps the sun out of my eyes.” 

“And it’s rather sexy,” she says to assuage his irritation. 

“There was a woman at court named Lady Isabelle who delighted in mocking me. Her family was wealthy; though not nearly as wealthy as the d’Orsay’s. She only wore purple - purple gowns, purple jewels, and purple makeup. Even a purple wig at one point.”

“Because purple is the colour of royalty and purple fabric is expensive?” Vasco asks. 

“Yes - how did you know that?” 

Vasco smirks. “I’m not entirely hopeless at such things. The noble woman I had an affair with mentioned it once.” 

“She wanted to show her family’s wealth off; to give the impression that she was royalty when she wasn’t. But that never mattered to me; people can wear whatever they like. Lady Isabelle disliked my sense of style. That I preferred more simple clothing over opulence. And, of course, I was consistently told how ugly my mark made me.” 

It still hurts to think of the things the woman said to her, even if she knows she will be unlikely to ever see her again. 

“What a cruel and spoiled woman,” Vasco says. “If we ever walk past her point her out to me and I’ll set her straight.” 

“You need not do that, Love,” she says, though the image of it is satisfying in a way that shames her. “Constantin dealt with her. She was sweet on Loïc; apparently his orientation isn’t completely obvious. Loïc ignored her. Constantin told Isabelle that Loïc would meet her privately in our library. So Isabelle waited for hours, thinking Loïc was just tied up with some task for Uncle. When Loïc showed up in the library, completely by chance, Isabelle threw herself at him.” 

“And what did your brother do?” 

“He was quite appalled to have an armful of woman to deal with. She ran off in tears I’m told. Constantin told me Loïc was annoyed with him for that little trick but Isabelle kept her distance after that.” 

Vasco chuckles. “Your cousin probably should have given him some advance warning.” 

“I think he expected Isabelle to get the message and leave long before any confrontation occurred,” she says. “Did you ever have any sort of rival when you were a child?” 

“Not for long,” he says. “There was one boy who used to pick on me. He sailed on Admiral Cabral’s ship with me during our breaks and he was far bigger than me. Used to beat me up. The admiral felt sorry for me and taught me how to throw a proper punch so the next time he tried that, I ended up breaking his nose.” 

She laughs. “That must have felt good.” 

“Satisfying, yes; good, no. My hand hurt like hell afterwards.” 

“What happened to him?” 

“He’s a guard in Sérène. Turns out he wasn’t well-suited for sailing on account of being kind of a dumbass. I ran into him a few years back and he apologized for the way he treated me.” Vasco’s face then flushes and she turns and looks at him. 

“There’s more to this story!” She exclaims and Vasco’s face grows even more red as he kicks at the dirt on the ground.

“I... may have slept with him.” 

“And by ‘may have’ you mean you ‘absolutely slept with him’? Was it satisfying?” 

“It got the job done,” he says. 

“That is not high praise.” 

“It is not.” He clears his throat and then changes the subject. “Generally I got along with a lot of my classmates. I don’t necessarily see them often; we’re all scattered to the winds but I have fond memories of that time in my life. Hiking up to the top of our island where there’s a cliff hanging over the sea, for instance. The view was marvellous and it was my favourite place when I was a kid. Occasionally we would all sneak out and walk through the town to see what we could see. There was never much of interest but we’d laugh at the odd drunk or see people in the midst of coupling. Not that we understood what was happening at that age.”

“Was Flavia in your class?” 

Vasco shakes his head. “She’s a year younger and was brought up on the other side of town so our paths didn’t cross until we were stationed on the same ship as teenagers. Since then we’ve sailed together and she’s become a sister. Lauro I didn’t meet until Flavia and I were transferred to the Sea Horse, but that’s not surprising because he’s about Kurt’s age. Jonas has been the Sea Horse’s Cabin Boy for nearly three years.”

“There’s more than one place where kids are raised on your island?”

“There’s...” Vasco pauses to think. “Four I think? Two in town and two on the other sides of the island. Had I shown an interest in engineering, they might have sent me across the island to begin preliminary training as a ship builder. I had the math skills for it, but was more interested in applying those skills elsewhere,” Vasco says; his words careful and measured as they always are when he’s navigating the secrets of his people. 

“You belong at sea and I’m sure those who taught you could tell that of you.” 

“It was generally obvious, yes. I saw Admiral Cabral just before I got my first ship assignment. She had just been promoted to fleet commander at the time and she told me I’d become one myself some day if I kept at it. I found myself thinking about that after she scullied me,” Vasco says. “I don’t fully understand why she did what she did, but I do think she wanted me to reflect on my own condition while stuck on land.” 

“Which you did. You found peace and have embraced your life as a Naut.”

He turns his head and gives her a kiss. “And I’ll even bring another home with me to join the family.” 

“You’ll have a lot to teach me, I expect.” 

“The basics, at the very least. You’re to be a doctor and not a sailor so you’ll have to know what to do in an emergency, but day-to-day you won’t be up to much on-deck.”

Elizabet doesn’t ask any further questions to avoid Vasco having to navigate around what he is and isn’t allowed to say to someone who isn’t a Naut. 

“Did you ever come up with a new name, by the way?” 

“No,” she says, laughing. “I figured I’d have to ask you for help that day. You would know Naut names better than I do. What do I look like to you, Love?” 

“I’m... not sure,” he admits. “I was a bit worried you’d ask me for help and had no idea what to say to you that day. I still don’t. But, I think your name will come to you when the time is right.”


	26. Unrest in San Matheus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elizabet and Loïc conduct an investigation on behalf of Admiral Cabral.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: gaslighting

“Just go to the admiral, already! Your constant chatter about island mysteries is growing tiresome,” Constantin grouses to him as they eat dinner. 

“But that would require speaking to a Naut,” he responds. 

“Whatever will you do, my lucky star?” 

“There’s no need to get snarky, Darling.” 

Constantin fixes him with a hard stare. “You’re being rather childish about this whole thing. Suck it up, be polite to the admiral and do what you need to get the answers you’re looking for. Or stop complaining about not understanding why we never knew the Congregation tried to colonize the island once.” 

Childish. The man who allowed himself to get caught in a closet with not one woman, not two, but three at his father’s birthday party is lecturing him about being childish. 

“Or have Elizabet look into it. I’m sure she would be happy to talk to the admiral.” 

“Ellie is not handling it,” he says firmly. “She’ll just make a mess of it. Besides, she’s needed at your side.” 

“If you say so, Loïc,” Constantin says, sounding bored by the topic of discussion. “If money is an issue I’ll make sure you have whatever you need to pay for the information.” 

Constantin has hardly touched his food. “Did the cooks overdo your fish?” He asks casually. 

“I’m just not hungry. Lunch was a large meal.” 

This isn’t the first time Constantin has turned his nose up at a meal. It’s become increasingly concerning. But his darling will not be happy if he worries. So, he tries a different tactic. “Let’s skip right to dessert, then? Let the help pick over what remains of this food.” 

Ellie hasn’t told him anything about the admiral so he’s honestly not sure what to expect. But Admiral Cabral isn’t it. She’s a slight woman; just over five feet tall with a face full of tattoos. Younger than he expected for an admiral too. “De Sardet,” she greets with a tone that reveals she is wary of him. 

“Admiral. I have information I require,” he says once he’s sitting down in her office. When the admiral says nothing, he continues on. “I’ve obtained evidence that the Congregation once tried to colonize the island, which means we’ve known of it far longer than I was led to believe. The Nauts would have brought my people here. What do your records have to say about this matter?” 

“As you are undoubtedly aware, there are many matters I cannot speak of to outsiders.” 

“How much will it cost to loosen your lips?” He asks. 

“It’s not a matter of money,” the admiral responds, glaring at him. “Were you to help me and my people, I could be convinced to overlook pacts that were made and share the information you seek.” 

“I’d really rather just pay for it.” 

“Even if I were inclined to accept a bribe - which I’m not, I would be unlikely to do so from you. Help me, and I will help you,” she says. 

“What do you need?” This better not end up being a difficult job. 

“I have a condition.” 

“You’re asking for my help and placing conditions on it? That’s not how this works.” 

The admiral crosses her arms and leans back in her chair, looking at him as if he were some teenaged brat instead of the wealthy and respectable diplomat that he is. “You came in here asking for _my_ help. I’m the one who has the power here.”

“I can walk away,” he warns her. 

“Go ahead. You’ll never learn what you need to know and there are others who would assist me.” 

Ellie. She’s talking about Ellie and her Naut. Given that the Naut has manipulated Ellie away from him, there’s no guarantee he could force the information he needs out of her. 

“What is your condition?” He asks, rolling his eyes. 

“Your sister, Elizabet De Sardet will accompany you on the mission I give you.” 

“I know my sister’s name.” 

“I was given a very different impression,” the admiral says. 

Damned Naut. Apparently he’s gossiping to the admiral. 

“Certain... citizens of Thélème have been causing problems for us. Commander Fernando, who holds the port in San Matheus will let you know what is going on. Your bishop friend will know more about those involved.”

“And why can’t you go yourself?” 

“As a legate, your title gets you into places a Naut is not welcome.” 

“And my sister?” 

“Will act as your conscience,” the admiral says. “I’ll be sending word to Fernando, asking him not to speak to you unless Elizabet is by your side.” 

He gives her a false smile. “I’ll sort everything out and I’ll make sure Ellie is along with me.” 

What an irritating woman, he thinks as he leaves. 

***

“Ellie! Admiral Cabral has requested your aid, in addition to mine,” Loïc calls through the door. “There are clashes between Nauts and the Ordo Luminis. Apparently my help is not good enough.”

“More that the admiral knows better than to rely solely on you,” Vasco mutters under his breath. 

He looks over at Elizabet. “Suppose we are going to San Matheus, then?” She nods. 

“Vasco and I will be ready to go shortly,” she calls out. 

“Not the Naut. Just you.” 

Elizabet sighs heavily next to him in the bed, swings her legs over and stands up, making her way to the door. “Vasco will be coming with us as this pertains specifically to his people. If you decline then we will approach Admiral Cabral and offer our assistance directly.”

“Petrus is coming too,” he hears De Sardet respond, his frustration evident. 

It’s nice to have Petrus along; the man is a good buffer between the two of them and De Sardet. “While I’m aware that your people’s practices are shrouded in secrecy, you do have marriage customs, I assume?” 

Vasco looks over to see De Sardet looking thoroughly miserable by the new topic of discussion. 

“We do. We marry at sea. As the captain of my ship, I am able to marry anyone, so long as we are on-board my ship. Though, I believe marriages are recognized by the admiralty even if they are performed within the traditions of another nation.” 

Meaning him and Elizabet do not need to marry at sea for them to be married. 

“Does your... faith... require marriage?” 

Now they’re heading into dangerous territory. Naut beliefs are a secret. “It’s not a matter of belief, but a matter of romance. All sailors are hopeless romantics; it’s just part of the culture now. Marriages are done out of love, though many opt not to marry for one reason or another. Folks on land keep all sorts of ridiculous traditions regarding propriety - none of that exists within the Nauts. Can’t be modest when you’re sleeping with a dozen sailors bunked around you.” 

“We believe in respectability,” De Sardet says snidely. 

“You may. But I don’t see how someone is any more or less respectable based on who they choose to spend the night with and who they choose to love.” 

Elizabet has been holding his hand the entire time they’ve been chatting and squeezes it, giving him a smile and a kiss on the cheek. “I’ve always felt the same way. Think the world could use more people loving openly without regard for station or what others might think.” 

“Were I to ask about your faith, would you answer?” Petrus asks. 

“I would not,” he says and Petrus opts not to further explore the matter. 

The sea is at the centre of every Naut’s life. It gives and it takes. Nauts recognize and respect the power of the sea and the creatures that reside within it. Whether that could be called faith, he’s unsure. But what he does know is that Nauts are buried at sea, because when a person falls, they should be laid to rest at home. 

He’s known a few Nauts who’ve prayed to the monsters of the depths. He never has. Frankly he prefers not to draw their attention to himself, thank you very much. 

“You are not trying to convert the Naut to the light?” Loïc asks. 

“I have my doubts he would have any interest,” Petrus responds. 

“Your doubt is well-placed,” he says dryly. “I’ve had enough priests shove pamphlets at me. Better that than being tossed to the fire, I’ll give you that. As a matter of practice, Nauts are... cautious when in Thélème and San Matheus.” 

“I’ll keep you safe, Love,” Elizabet says. 

He won’t leave the apartment without her. Not after the last time he was in San Matheus. 

Despite being with Elizabet this time around, walking into San Matheus fills him with dread. He reaches for her hand and she takes it immediately, squeezing it. 

Never once has she ever hesitated to hold his hand in public. Something that means more to him than he would have thought. “We’ll get to the bottom of this, protect my people and return to New Sérène,” Vasco says to her. 

“Depending on what we find out, you mean. If these Nauts have antagonized the Ordo Luminis...” De Sardet says. 

“My very existence antagonizes them,” he responds in a sharp tone that he hopes disguises his fear. Giving De Sardet any ammunition on him is something to avoid. 

There are many things about Thélème’s treatment of his people that baffle him. The fact that members of the Ordo Luminis are seeking out his people... the very people who sailed them here is... just rather stupid, he thinks. If Admiral Cabral deems them to be a threat, she’d pull their ships from San Matheus without hesitation. 

The very notion of heresy has never made much sense to him either. Why can’t people just believe what they want to believe? He’s had enough pamphlets tossed at him and priests shouting that if he declines to convert he’ll be burned for eternity in the flames of hell to have decided long ago that faith should be a private matter. 

A few times he’s told the priests shouting at him that he’d sooner burn in hell than listen to another word out of their mouth. This was before Loïc De Sardet sent him on a mission that very nearly ended with him tied to a pyre and burned in the square. 

Now? He’ll keep his damn mouth shut around the priests. Let them shout whatever they want at him. He hates that De Sardet has frightened him into silence. That the man won because his cruelty has managed to shut him up - at least in a limited manner. 

***

Black magic. If the lives of his people weren’t at stake he’d laugh about it. Of all the absurd things those extremists could come up with... 

Worse, De Sardet smiles at the asshole and promises to investigate thoroughly. As if he believes that bullshit! 

Nothing surprises him anymore about that man. “I don’t actually think he believes it; he just wants to get a rise out of you,” Elizabet says under her breath. 

“Well it’s worked,” he says, hating that he’s let the man get under his skin like this. But his people need to be rescued. These idiots need to be stopped. 

They’re at the port, trying to figure out their next steps. 

“The best way to end this is to prove your people have nothing to do with the malichor,” Petrus says. 

“We don’t! I couldn’t tell you why we don’t get the malichor. We can rescue my people and deal with finding whatever proof is needed afterwards,” he says, crossing his arms. 

“I’ve heard the Ordo Luminis rent cells off the Coin Guards, so we would be wise to head to the barracks first,” Petrus suggests. 

The door to the jail is open, revealing that a single guard is on duty. Bit of a security risk, but it will certainly make things easier for them so he’s not going to criticize the Coin Guard’s practices today. 

“There’s only the one guard; I can take him,” De Sardet says. 

“No!” Elizabet says in an angry whisper. “Surely he can be reasoned with. To imprison innocents?” 

“I doubt he cares so long as he’s getting paid,” Petrus says. 

Given that this guard is involved in the imprisoning of his brothers and sisters simply by standing watch, he’s actually inclined to agree with De Sardet. Not that he says so out loud, of course. Can’t let the man obtain the satisfaction of knowing that he actually agrees with him on a matter. 

“I’m not wasting my time reasoning with someone who probably can’t even read,” De Sardet says to Elizabet. 

Rolling her eyes, she pulls out her coin purse and grabs a handful of coins. “You look hungry. Why not buy yourself some lunch?” She says, handing the coin over to the guard whose eyes go wide. 

“Really? I have been getting rather hungry...” 

“If you leave the key I’ll keep watch for you,” Elizabet says, extending her palm towards the guard who gives her the key and leaves. 

“You know, that man was not the brightest guard we’ve encountered,” he mutters to Elizabet, who grins and unlocks the cells. 

“We are here to rescue you. Do any of you need medical treatment?”

“They cast spells on us and tortured us,” a woman about his age says, voice trembling. 

“We’ll get you to the port and I will do what I can for you all, I promise.” 

“Ellie, we don’t have time for this,” De Sardet says, tapping his foot impatiently. 

“Our task was to figure out what was going on. Part of that is treating those injured by the cruelties of the Ordo Luminis. I will be providing treatment and you are free to return to the apartment for the remainder of the afternoon if you’d prefer to do so,” Elizabet says as she wraps an arm around one of the Nauts. He helps the other and slowly they make their way back to the port. 

Looking behind him he sees that Petrus remains with them but that De Sardet has departed. “I thought to offer my services as a guard, given that the two of you are not currently combat-ready,” he explains. 

A gesture he appreciates because they are vulnerable at the moment. As soon as they enter the port several other Nauts rush over and help carry the two rescued Nauts to the infirmary. Elizabet follows closely behind. 

There’s not much he can do but watch as Elizabet cleans their wounds, heals burns inflicted by those awful people, and does what other healing she is able to do on them. Petrus leaves at one point, returning with several magic and healing potions. 

“I’m afraid I know nothing of healing,” Petrus says, sitting down next to him on a cot, watching the scene before them. 

“I’ve got basic first aid, but that’s about it. Amazes me, what she can do. Don’t understand why it’s looked down upon by her family.” 

“The Congregation of Merchants being a nation of, well, merchants, means that is what is respected amongst the nobility. All noble families are merchants, most with contracts in other nations. There’s a reason the Nauts are relied upon so heavily, after all. Had your partner not wished to enter politics or business, law would have also been acceptable. Anything else is too... common,” Petrus explains. 

“And in Thélème? Would her career aspirations be mocked there?” 

“Her methods are far different - and more effective, than those of the healers of Thélème. In Thélème some priests become healers. She could not be a non-believer and have any hope of doing what she wishes to do for a living.” 

“She will do so much good in this world,” he says and Petrus nods in agreement. 

***

“Take me into the warehouse the Ordo Luminis are trying to get into. Prove to me you aren’t up to no good,” De Sardet says. 

“There will be nothing of concern in there, I assure you,” he says firmly. 

“Vasco shouldn’t have to reveal his people’s secrets in order to keep a bunch of extremists from hurting his brothers and sisters. We shouldn’t dignify this nonsense with a response,” Elizabet says, crossing her arms. 

“The Ordo Luminis will continue to target the Nauts unless there is proof there is no threat. Provide this proof and the Mother Cardinal may be able to shut them down for good,” Petrus says. 

“I’ll go. About time the world knows what the Nauts are up to,” De Sardet says. 

He is _not_ revealing his people’s secrets to De Sardet. They’d be sold to the Bridge Alliance that same week. 

Petrus speaks up. “Allow me to suggest that Elizabet go. She has built a great deal of goodwill with the Mother Cardinal; more, I suspect, than you have, my child. I assume our Naut companion would be more amenable to his partner learning the secrets of the Nauts?” 

De Sardet kicks at a pebble on the ground and looks like a child who has just had a piece of candy taken from him. 

“I will take Elizabet. Only Elizabet.” 

“You’ll tell me what you see inside, right, Ellie?” 

Elizabet laughs - hard, and then looks seriously at her brother. “No. You will never know what I see in that warehouse.” 

The guards at the warehouse glare at Elizabet and stop them. “We’re here on Admiral Cabral’s orders; step aside,” he says. 

His face and coat reveals his rank and the guard deflates immediately. “Of course. Sorry Captain,” he stutters. “Didn’t see your ink scars.”

More that he didn’t notice the tattoos showing he outranks the guard in front of him, but doesn’t push the matter; they’ve been given access to the warehouse. 

“I hate that this is necessary,” Elizabet says to him. 

“You’ll join up soon enough and I trust you to keep what you see a secret,” he tells her. 

For centuries the rumour of Naut magic has been whispered and as a result, his people have been looked upon with suspicion. The notion that Nauts can control the weather or use magic to sail has always been laughable. 

If he were able to control the weather why the fuck would he sail through a hurricane? Or any storm for that matter? The very idea of it is absurd. 

“Am I allowed to ask questions?” Elizabet asks as they stand in front of a sextant. “Learning you navigate by the stars explains so much. Why you know so much about them. Why when I asked certain questions during our lessons you got uncomfortable.” 

“I can’t say much - I don’t know how some of these models even work. The newest ones would be recent inventions,” he says. 

“I always thought it odd that, despite the stories that Nauts use their own magic, that you have never cast a spell. I never felt any sort of magical aura around you.” 

“Don’t expect me to ever cast a spell. That’s your area of expertise.” 

He shows her the barometer in the warehouse and she looks amazed by it. “That thing just tells you the weather?” 

“Not for certain, but it’s good for predicting it,” he says. “That and centuries of data on weather patterns, and the state of the sea during certain times of years in different parts of the world allow us to have a sense of what to expect on a voyage. Occasionally I’ve run into surprises, but not often. And not since I became a captain.” 

“You’re good at using that thing?” 

“And I read the information we have compiled. Some more foolhardy captains don’t bother to do their research.” Such as Izan, the Sea Horse’s previous captain, who sailed them right into a hurricane. Damned reckless fool. 

“You use science and not magic. This is all remarkable,” Elizabet says, sounding impressed. 

“We spread the magic rumour ourselves. It hurts our reputation but avoids competition.” 

De Sardet looks irritated outside the port as he waits for them alongside Petrus. “So, what did you learn?” 

“That the Nauts are not responsible for the malichor. But we already knew that. Worse, they’re planning an attack on the port so we are going to go to the palace and put a stop to this for good,” Elizabet says, walking briskly enough that De Sardet is almost jogging as he tries to keep up with her. 

“But do we know for certain? I’m sure they’re not planning an _attack_ ,” De Sardet scoffs. 

Elizabet stops and whips around to face her brother, pointing a finger at him. “I have the papers in my bag proving that they are. I have the proof we need to destroy that little cult once and for all, ensuring they cannot hurt anyone else. Why are you fighting me on this? The Nauts are our allies and we need them; not just to get back to Sérène but to transport the goods our nation buys and sells!” 

“I’m not fighting you,” De Sardet says in a tone that sounds very much like he is pouting. 

“Why are you so upset by the looming destruction of the Ordo Luminis? They hurt innocent people!” 

“Ellie, don’t try to be political. You’re just making things up and you know nothing about politics. You sound ridiculous right now.” De Sardet pushes past her and Elizabet looks doubtful. 

“We... we have the papers. They... imprisoned your people. I can’t be wrong, can I?” 

“Elizabet, your conclusion is the correct one. Don’t let him shake your confidence,” he says, taking her hand. 

“I don’t doubt your people or you. But I’m not good at politics...” 

“Petrus is, and he agrees with your conclusion. Your brother wants to see the Ordo Luminis remain active. I don’t know why. But he has a stake in this, which means he has a vested interest in sowing doubt about the Nauts. Bring the Ordo Luminis down for good.” 

He hates that he’s having to use Petrus’ belief as evidence. That her brother has made her doubt evidence they’ve gathered personally.

“Would you feel more comfortable remaining at the apartment, or will you come with me?” 

He grins at her. “There’s no question I’m coming with you. Do you think I’d miss the arrest of Domitius?” 

Watching the Mother Cardinal stare down De Sardet is surprisingly satisfying. The woman gives him a hard stare, and every word out of his mouth is met with doubt. 

Elizabet, however, is greeted pleasantly. She politely explains that she has been shown the contents of the warehouse and that it is not a concern. And that is that - the Mother Cardinal does not question her further. 

Something that seems to intrigue Petrus, who looks on at the conversation with an expression of great interest on his face. 

“Well, Naut; you and your people are in my debt,” De Sardet says once they’ve returned to the apartment in San Matheus. 

“My child, I believe it is your sister who deserves the credit for the success of our mission. It was her who bribed the Coin Guard and ensured the Nauts made it back to port safely. Then she provided medical treatment to the rescued sailors. And it was her who convinced Cornelia that the Nauts are not a threat and that the Ordo Luminis’ activities must be stopped,” Petrus retorts calmly. “A task I do not believe she embarked on in search of a reward.” 

“And the only reason she was listened to at all is because I was with her. I’m the one with political power.” 

“Take the credit, Loïc; I helped because it was the right thing to do, not to receive thanks or glory.” 

How many times has he had to watch her get browbeaten by her jackass of a brother? Desperately he wants to speak up but fears making things worse for her. “What would you like to do with the rest of the day, Tempest?” He asks her. 

They aren’t leaving until the day after tomorrow because De Sardet has several meetings here in San Matheus. That means him and Elizabet have the next day and a half free. 

“I think I’d like to sit in the garden with you and read. Maybe play cards later. Relax and soak in the tub this evening. Then tomorrow? I’m not actually sure.” 

“Sounds perfect,” he says, wrapping an arm around her as they make their way to the back door. Turning back, he sees that De Sardet is glaring at him; a glare that he returns with a pleased smirk. 

What a small, petty man, he thinks; to be so unhappy at the sight of his sister’s happiness. To make her question her own observations. 

“Thank you for helping my brethren,” he says to her. “It was you. It was all you. And I’ll make sure the admiral knows it.” 

They settle on a bench and Elizabet lies down, resting her head on his lap and looking up at him with a pleased smile on her face. “From everything you’ve told me and from what I’ve seen, Admiral Cabral is a very intelligent woman. I doubt she needs you to tell her it was me and not Loïc who helped out.” 

It’s such a small thing, but he loves how comfortable they are together. How she just rests her head on his lap automatically, as if it is second nature to her. How if they drift apart in the night, he makes his way close to her once more when he wakes, so she knows how loved she is as soon as she opens her eyes. How she does the same for him if she wakes first. 

He caresses her face and meets her smile. “She wouldn’t, but that doesn’t mean I won’t get satisfaction out of bragging about you.”


	27. The Prince’s Secret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A shocking revelation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: anxiety and slut-shaming.

“You two are the... products of one of those voyages.”

All her life they’ve been lied to. She’s no noble - she’s a Native and a Sea Born Naut. Vasco wraps an arm around her as Admiral Cabral reveals this news to her and Loïc. 

Her brother remains stoic but she can tell he’s on edge. He stares straight ahead, looking at the wall of the admiral’s office, not meeting any of their eyes. Loïc leaves without speaking to the admiral; she thanks her before walking out, holding onto Vasco tightly for support. 

She’s having difficulty remaining composed with the realization that they were kidnapped away from their poor mum. “Did Constantin know this? I must see him!” Loïc says, standing at the edge of the pier. 

He needs comfort. The fear that his lover has betrayed him must be overwhelming. So she forgets her own pain for the moment and embraces her brother. “I think tonight should be spent processing what we’ve learned. We can go talk to Constantin tomorrow. Send a messenger requesting a meeting for late in the morning.” 

“I am sorry. I wish I had the words to comfort you both. But you do not need to be ashamed of your ancestry. This island is at the core of all our fates,” Petrus says. 

“The only shame I feel is that if word gets out, some will use it to discredit me and my accomplishments,” Loïc says. “I am a De Sardet and the nephew of Prince d’Orsay.” 

While she’s devastated that Mother kept this from her and that her mum had both her children ripped away from her after being kidnapped... she’s relieved, in a way. 

It explains so much. Why she never fit in at court. Her mysterious healing abilities. Why she feels so at home at sea and out in the wilderness. Until stepping aboard Vasco’s ship she had never been home before. 

Her and her brother walk, hand-in-hand back to the apartment. Vasco remains by her side, not saying a word but looking over at her periodically with concern. 

“Tempest, would you like me to share the news with everyone?” Vasco asks when they return to the apartment. 

It’s Loïc who responds. “Absolutely not. This is none of your business.” Vasco ignores the outburst and wraps his arms around her while Loïc calls for everyone. 

“It turns out Ellie and I are the children of a Native woman. The Congregation has been undertaking secret expeditions to the island for years and we were born on a Naut ship.” Loïc laughs to himself. “My uncle must have realized he needed ambassadors so he took me and a spare and gave us to our mother.” 

“Spare.” Another reminder that this is all she is. Vasco looks furious by the casual proclamation but says nothing, remaining close to her instead. 

Siora turns to her. “I understand you may be sad because you were lied to. But do not be sad about who you are. We are a proud people and I am glad to know that you are one of us.”

She gives Siora a small smile in return. Loïc frowns at her. “Just because we were born the children of a Native woman doesn’t mean we are of your people. We are nobles, with more class and privilege than you could ever have.” 

“I was not speaking to you; I was speaking to Elizabet. You are a _renaigse_ ,” Siora says coolly.

She fights her growing anxiety. “Come to bed with me and cuddle?” Vasco asks her. 

“Loïc needs me,” she says, shaking her head. 

“And what about your needs?” 

“They don’t matter,” she says softly. They’ve never mattered to her brother. 

Vasco’s face falls. “They matter to me. Allow me to care for you, if you think that will help.” 

She forces herself to smile and speaks quietly enough that Loïc would be unable to hear her. “At least I know for certain we’ll be able to go home together when the time is right. That I’ll be accepted as a Naut.” 

He gives her a kiss. “I’ll bring you home. I promise,” he whispers. 

Loïc grabs her shoulder. “Ellie. My quarters.” Before she leaves Vasco gives her one last kiss. 

She’s never actually been in Loïc’s quarters before. They’re surprisingly bare; she’d have thought the room was going unused if she didn’t already know it was her brother’s room. Perhaps most of his things are at the palace? Loïc gestures to a chair and she sits down and he pulls up a chair and settles beside her. “Suppose you’re happy about this. You’re a Naut now.” There’s no hiding the bitterness in his voice; she doubts he even tried to do so. 

“Why would I be happy that our family - including our mother, lied to us for our entire lives?” 

While she’s relieved because so much about her now makes sense, she’s not happy. Not at all. 

“It all worked out, in the end. We’re what we are meant to be. You and I are too good to sleep in a hut or crowded in tight quarters on a ship. We’re rich and our names have meaning.” 

She gives her brother a look. “You might be but I’m not. I’d have rather had the life I was truly born into. Whether that be as a Naut or a Native.” 

Loïc sighs. “Of course you’d see romance in it. How many romance novels did you read as a child? Life is not a silly poem, you know.” 

That her brother would accuse her of being a naive romantic when he’s spent years in a secret romance with their cousin fills her with an anger she does not show openly. “I’d rather be a naive romantic who loves my partner openly and without shame than someone sneaking around in the shadows with their lover. Better a silly woman who loves poems than a bitter man who stabs everyone in the back, including his sister in order to get ahead.” 

She braces herself for a show of anger that never comes. Instead Loïc laughs almost fondly. “You’ve got cute little teeth now, Ellie. The one good thing your Naut has taught you. I must admit I can respect his sharp tongue. But he could do with learning the art of subtlety.” 

“We aren’t here to discuss my partner. If you’re so keen to insult him I’ll return to my quarters.” 

“Ellie, no,” he says, sounding almost desperate. “Do you think he knew? Did my Constantin know?” His face crumples in a rare show of vulnerability and she softens immediately. 

“No. I don’t think he would have known. Have you ever known him to keep anything discreet?” 

“Our relationship.” 

And, admittedly, many of the things the two of them have discussed privately. How unhappy they both are with the lives they are forced to live. Dreams she has that, until recently, she feared would never come true. Things she would never trust her brother with. 

“Aside from that.” 

Loïc shakes his head. “He never was good at keeping information to himself.” 

“Then he wouldn’t know. Because if he did, he would have told us as soon as he found out. Especially you.” 

While their relationship has problems - and lots of them, there’s no denying that they’re both dedicated to one another. Constantin would never betray Loïc in that way. As much as her brother tries to show that he’s confident and unshakeable; he can be insecure. An insecurity that shows in jealousy when it comes to his partner. 

Before Vasco she had never been in a relationship. The only genuine and loving relationship she had been witness to was Loïc and Constantin’s. While she read romance novels and poetry with fervour she wondered if insecurity and jealousy were a given in any romantic relationship. Discovering that it very much isn’t has been a relief. Not once has she doubted Vasco’s love for her and neither of them are prone to jealousy. 

Her reassurance seems to cheer Loïc up. “Of course he wouldn’t have known! It’s a clever thing, what happened. Presumably Uncle Adrien’s doing. He taught me to find every advantage and to plan ahead. Taking two Native children - how much further ahead could one plan? It’s brilliant in its own way.” 

Elizabet is disappointed. Disappointed but not surprised. “Of course you would see the brilliance in it. All I see is cruelty. Our mum was stolen from her home and we were ripped from her arms. It’s barbaric.” 

“Yes it is, Ellie. But that is the nature of ruling. One must make ugly decisions to benefit the Congregation. That is why I’m the legate and you’re nothing more than Constantin’s assistant,” Loïc says and his words make her feel nauseous. That he can accept such cruelties so readily means he can commit them too. 

Her brother has done things she disagrees with. Blowing up the cave. Treating Vasco and Siora terribly and disregarding their safety. Trying to plan an arranged marriage without her consent. But to think he can justify kidnapping... “I’m going to return to my love. I... am in need of the comfort he provides,” she says, fighting to keep her voice steady and trying to ward off her growing panic. 

Loïc smirks. “I expect you are. Is he a good lay, Ellie? I’ve never had a Naut but you’re quite experienced with them.” 

That’s not the sort of comfort she was referring to. “We do not speak of such personal matters with others.” 

“I didn’t need to ask. Not really. We’ve all heard you. It’s disgusting, really.” Loïc lights a cigarette and she winces; she hates the smell of them. He takes a draw and blows smoke towards her and she tries to fan it away. “Does it get him off - knowing he can make an uptight little noble scream?” 

There’s no point in picking a fight with him; hitting back against his subtle shaming or the mockery. “Have a good night, Loïc. I shall see you when we meet with Constantin in the morning,” she says, and walks out of his quarters with her head held high. 

Vasco is at the door almost immediately once she opens the door to their quarters and his arms are around her. For the first time today she has the privacy to feel the way she truly feels and she breaks down. When her legs tremble and can no longer hold her up, Vasco helps her to the floor, pulls her into his lap and rocks her as he whispers soothing words into her ear. 

“I want to go home,” she whispers. 

Vasco kisses her forehead. “We will. As soon as we are able, we will. You will be the doctor on my ship and I will take you all over the world. You’ll eat things in port that you can hardly imagine and we’ll look up at the stars every night. And we will be so happy, Tempest, because we are where we both belong. Tell me, what would you like to see?” 

He’s trying to distract her; to ease the tight grip her panic has on her. 

“A waterfall. A really big one. Bigger than any buildings that exist. Have you ever seen one like that?” 

Vasco chuckles, seemingly amused by her request. “I’ve seen many like that. There is one, across the sea that is taller than you can even fathom. You can hike up to the top and bathe in the waters of the river and rest against rocks right at the edge of the falls. I’ll take you there. And I’ve been told tales of a massive one in the shape of a horseshoe.” 

“I’m not sure I believe that,” she says. 

“Well, the man who told me the story is a bit of a drunk so who knows if it’s true or not. But if it is, I’ll try to arrange a voyage there. Just for you. Because I want to show you every beautiful thing in this world.” 

“I want that. So much,” she says, as fresh tears fall onto her cheeks. 

“You will have it. Adrien d’Orsay won’t ever be able to hurt you again. I know it’s hard now and I know how this life hurts you but you need only endure a little bit longer. Shall we lie down in bed?” 

They’ve been on the floor for a long time and she’s been on Vasco’s lap. He must be getting sore. “I wouldn’t mind taking a bath. I can call Judy...” 

“No need,” Vasco says and he lifts her up and carries her to the bed. “Give me a few minutes.” She can hear the sound of water filling the tub and he returns and undresses her with a care and tenderness she’s come to expect from him. He lifts her and carries her to the tub, the hot water a relief for her aching muscles. 

“You’re strong, you know. Carrying me like that,” she says as he rolls his sleeves up and begins washing her hair. 

“Side effect of the life I live. I’ve had to lift far heavier or more awkward things.” 

“Want to know a secret?” Vasco looks at her, seemingly amused. “Constantin, tall as he is, cannot lift a thing. Loïc can carry Constantin quite easily. But Constantin always tried to get out of lessons with Kurt. Occasionally I’ve lifted boxes that he cannot so he doesn’t have to call for someone.” 

“Must admit that doesn’t surprise me. It’s not an uncommon thing amongst the nobility I imagine. Don’t expect many are interested in manual labour.” Vasco grabs a bowl and pours water over her head, rinsing the shampoo out. 

“Well, if you ever need to go hand-to-hand with Constantin you’ll have him pinned in under a minute. Loïc would be tougher. He’s really strong.” 

“But not quick. Not like me,” She’s slightly concerned by the turn the conversation has taken and Vasco quickly adds, “not that I’d ever find out what fighting him is like.” 

Vasco grabs the jar of oil by the tub and pours some into his hands and then works it into her hair. 

“Vasco?” 

“Yes Tempest?” 

“If Adrien had just taken Loïc, I’d be a Naut right now.” 

His fingers still in her hair. “Yes, you would be. Though I am not happy that your mum was allowed onboard one of our ships. It is a shameful thing and I’m sorry.” 

“I know you’d never allow that; you need not apologize,” she says. 

“Someone did, though. And if I ever find out who it was...” 

It’s mostly Adrien she’s angry with. He came up with the plan and ordered the kidnapping of a pregnant woman so he would have a pawn to put on the board when the time was right. And when he got two pawns, the golden child became his personal project and the spare was deemed worthless. In his eyes she’s nothing more than a disappointment. Squandered potential. 

What value is a doctor who refuses to build the family’s wealth by making an advantageous marriage? Doctors don’t make the sort of money he would expect her to bring in. 

It occurs to her that she may be more valuable to Adrien dead at this point. He has Loïc who will be by Constantin’s side for life, advising him. There’s no more need of a spare and if he has an insurance policy on her life... Mother is no longer around to protect her. Adrien kidnapped her mum; killing her wouldn’t be out of character. 

“Tempest?” 

“There’s no more need for a spare,” she says, feeling dizzy as her heart begins racing and her cheeks grow hot. 

“Then all that means is you’ll be able to come home without too much trouble,” Vasco says with a lightness she knows is being put on for her benefit. 

“I’m worth more dead than alive to Adrien. He’s almost certainly insured me. All he would have to do is have me killed.” 

“Look at me,” Vasco says softly. She turns her head and Vasco rests a hand on her cheek; his hand cool against her flushed face. “I promise you, I will keep you safe from anyone who tries to harm you. That man will not ever get near enough to hurt you. His minions won’t either. I will protect you.” 

“And what about you?” She asks tearfully. 

“You’ll protect me. That’s how this works. We take care of each other.” 

“Would we have found each other? If he hadn’t taken me?” A silly thing to worry about, she recognizes, but she just can’t discuss what happened or Adrien d’Orsay any longer. 

Vasco respects this and smiles at her. “Aye, we would have. We’re the same age, which means there’s a good chance we would have had classes together. So I’d have been bringing you clumps of flowers every morning, trying to woo you as only children can. And you, because you are a fine woman with splendid taste, would have sent me on my way and sought the affections of a far more interesting and attractive Naut.” 

“Doubtful. Nobody has ever gotten me flowers before. I think I would have been quite touched by your efforts.” 

“Well, now I must buy you flowers.” 

“There’s no need for that. You show your love in so many other ways and I don’t need you to go to a shop to buy them. You know what I would like, though?” 

“What is that?” Extending his hand he helps her out of the tub and grabs her a towel. 

“I’d like it if you picked me a flower. Out in the woods. Like you would have as a boy if I were a Naut and you were sweet on me.” 

“That settles it, then. Next time I’m out in the woods I’ll bring my beautiful Tempest home a flower.”

Vasco leads her into bed and pulls her against his chest. “How else would you have courted me as a child?” 

The life she’s lived isn’t hers. She’s not supposed to be Elizabet De Sardet. So she wants to imagine what her life could have been. 

“Well, I’d have wanted to spend time with you. So I’d ask you to the beach. We would walk to the quiet cove on the island and swim as the sun sets. Then, when we return to shore, goose bumped with chattering teeth I’d hold you close, just like this,” he says, kissing her cheek. “Couldn’t have you catching a cold, after all.” 

“What else?” 

“Poetry. I’d recite poetry. Beautiful words about how much you mean to me, because you deserve beautiful words and I’ll be damned if I can come up with them myself.” 

Vasco regularly recites poetry to her and she loves it. “Have you always enjoyed poetry?” 

“I have. I found it more interesting than the books we were forced to read. Dry memoirs written by stuffy admirals. Most of the best poems about the sea and romance are written by those actually at sea. I’ve always loved how vivid a good poem can be. How much emotion it can evoke.” 

“When we visit the island, take me out as you would have when we were young? It’s... a little ridiculous, I know, but I just want to be able to pretend that I was able to live the life I was meant for.” 

“I can do that. It... won’t fix everything; not the horrible cruelty your mum endured or the kidnapping of you and your brother, but when you return home we’ll be righting one wrong done to you, at least. You’re a Naut, Elizabet.” 

“Not yet,” she whispers. 

“While you may not have your tattoo yet, you are one of us. We’re family - not just because we chose to be, but because we’re both Nauts.” 

“I’m a Native and a Naut,” she says with conviction. “Not a noble.”


	28. A Coup and a Kidnapping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Elizabet is kidnapped during the coup, Vasco must rescue her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: kidnapping, graphic violence, serious injuries and anxiety. 
> 
> If anyone is inclined to listen to music, I wrote this while listening to “In the House, in a Heartbeat” by John Murphy and found inspiration from that specific scene from the film 28 Days Later.

“I’m going to go for a walk, Love,” she whispers and Vasco murmurs an acknowledgement before rolling over and going back to sleep. 

She found out the truth about her and Loïc’s identity yesterday. They were lied to for their entire lives. But - there is one small comfort. She is a Naut by birth. All she needs is to accept her birthright and she will be one. A comfort she clings to through all the turmoil. 

Later this morning she will be meeting Loïc and everyone else at the palace to talk with Constantin. To find out if her beloved cousin knew the truth. But first, she must speak with Admiral Cabral. 

It’s quiet this early in the day; merchants are setting up for the day and Coin Guards are patrolling the streets, but otherwise the streets are mostly empty. A relief, she thinks, because it allows her to be alone with her thoughts as she walks. 

There’s no answer when she knocks on the admiral’s office door, which shouldn’t be a surprise, given that the sun is still rising. Perhaps she should have waited until a little later in the morning but then Kurt or Vasco would have wanted to come with her and for the moment she does not wish for the company of others. She needs solitude. Elizabet’s eyes close and she breathes in the sea salt in the air, which brings a smile to her face. 

It will be nice to live at sea. Today could be the first day of a new life. 

While she waits she watches the waves crash against the wooden beams of the dock. A comfort. It feels as if she understands part of herself now; why the sea felt so much like home on their voyage. Why she loves the stars as she does. It wasn’t just because she fell in love with a Naut; it’s because she is one. 

“An entrancing sight, isn’t it, Lady De Sardet?” She jumps and turns to see Admiral Cabral who looks apologetic. “I’m sorry; Captain Vasco warned me you startle easily. What brings you here?”

“Call me Elizabet, please. I hate that damned title more than ever now. I’d hoped to speak with you, if you have a few minutes?” 

Admiral Cabral gestures for her to follow and they make their way into her office. “I’m not surprised to see you here today,” she says. “Though I must admit I did not expect you to come first thing in the morning.” 

“I was... I was... hoping to speak with you about accepting my birthright.” 

The admiral continues to look unsurprised. “You might find it amusing to learn that Captain Vasco has spent a great deal of time talking you up when I’ve met with him. An obvious attempt to convince me to take you as a volunteer. I never told him the truth; that even if you were not a healer we would be bound to accept you should you ask. And that we would be happy to have you home with us. So know he was as surprised as you were yesterday.” 

“So you’ll take me?” She asks excitedly. 

“I will. But, a suggestion.” Admiral Cabral takes a moment to consider her words. “You’re not just a Naut but a Native. And studying to be a physician. Should you two opt to leave now, there is only so far you can go in your training. However, if you delayed and found a _doneigad_ willing to teach you...” 

“I’d be able to do more to help people,” she finishes for the admiral, who nods, seemingly pleased that Elizabet understands. “I... think that is a fine idea. I’d love to train with someone. But I recognize that Vasco is... eager to leave,” she says carefully, not wanting to reveal the extent of his loathing for her brother. 

“He will remain by your side. And you by his. That much is clear to me. His mission was, ultimately a successful one. We’ve learned about the two of you and he has done well as a representative under... difficult circumstances.” Carefully worded but the implication is clear. “And, he brought one of you home to us. Though,” Admiral Cabral smirks, “I expect he’d successfully brought you home well before I sent him off with your brother.” 

“I will find someone to train me. And once it is complete, I will return home. You have my word.” 

“We will be happy to have you in our family, Elizabet.” 

Leaving the port, she feels good, knowing that her future with Vasco is set and that she has a path to walk down. Once she’s trained, her and Vasco will spend their lives at sea. 

Perhaps it was this distraction that kept her from noticing that she was being followed. A hand covers her mouth, ensuring no one hears her screams while she’s roughly dragged away by three Coin Guards. 

***

“Apparently my sister does not care enough to meet her obligations,” Loïc grumbles as they walk into the palace. 

Something isn’t right. Elizabet would never skip something like this, especially with her cousin. She’s responsible and courteous. “Early this morning she told me she was going for a walk. I should have gone with her but I was half-asleep and not thinking. I fear something has happened,” Vasco says. 

Petrus frowns. “I’m unsure who would be foolish enough to target the sister of the legate of the Congregation of Merchants.” 

“Elizabet knows how to fight; nobody could touch her,” Loïc scoffs. 

“In a controlled spar! Or fighting wild animals. She has little experience fighting people actively trying to do her harm,” Vasco argues. “Please allow me to go look for her.” 

With Elizabet nowhere to be found, Loïc is the one calling the shots, he supposes. 

For a brief moment her brother looks concerned but then hides it away. “If she doesn’t show up to the meeting you can go investigate afterwards.” 

It’s the best he’s going to get. Strangely, Kurt isn’t here either, which gives him a small amount of relief. If she’s with Kurt then surely she must be safe? Perhaps she simply decided she wasn’t ready to speak to her cousin about what she learned yesterday. 

Still, something doesn’t feel right. 

He’s in the room with everyone else when the diagnosis is revealed. The malichor. They’re shooed out quickly but even through the thick door he can hear the sound of horrified screams and sobs. For the first time he actually feels sorry for Elizabet’s brother. The horror of having one’s partner struck by such an unforgiving illness is not something he’d wish on anyone - not even Loïc. 

The attempt to conduct a proper meeting once they’re invited back in is a farce. Constantin’s eyes are red-rimmed, as are Loïc’s and the bouts of silence are long and awkward. 

It makes him want to scream. Nobody knows where Elizabet and Kurt are; why isn’t this more of a concern? 

Kurt walks in with several Coin Guards bearing rifles and any hope he had regarding Elizabet’s safety goes out the window. It’s with a sinking feeling in his stomach that he realizes for certain that Elizabet is in danger. 

A fall from this height won’t kill him, but guns are aimed at him and everyone else before he can break a window and jump out. 

“Coin Guards! Leave us!" The guards immediately follow Kurt’s order and begin to depart from the throne room.

Constantin angrily demands an explanation.

"Times change, Highness," Kurt says loudly.  
"We have little time," he says, quieter, so as not to be overheard.

Kurt quickly explains the commander has planned a coup and intends to eliminate the three governors of the island's cities. He remember’s Kurt’s quiet warning to watch over Elizabet. Kurt must have had suspicions something wasn’t right. And like an idiot, he failed to protect her on the very day she needed it most! 

"You have entrusted us with your security. You are completely at our mercy."

"Then why did you send your men away and why are you telling us?" Loïc asks angrily.

"I've known you three for a very long time. Too long. I've come to know you. And respect you. And I've never reneged on a contract. These orders go against all that I am. A cold-hearted mercenary, definitely. But never a traitor. And so now you are forewarned."

“Where is Elizabet?” He asks Kurt urgently. 

Kurt turns, his face pale and eyes wide with a concern he’s never before seen in the other man. “I thought she was back at the apartment?” Vasco shakes his head. “Where did she go?” 

“On a walk. I don’t know where. Early this morning.” 

Kurt curses. “They’d have grabbed her. If she’s still alive she’s a hostage. Basement of the Coin Guard barracks, in the cells. The orders I received this morning were to assassinate the legate and governor; things were a bit more unclear regarding her. Commander Torsten saw her as a lower value assassination target but potentially a valuable hostage.” 

He unholsters his pistol. “I’m going after her, then.” 

“No you aren’t,” Loïc says. “I need you by our side to deal with Torsten and his lieutenants. If they’re not stopped every city on this island falls.” 

“So you’ll let your sister remain a hostage, then? Have you thought, for one fucking minute what they’ll do to her as soon as they realize we’re there to stop them?” He spits out, shaking with anger and nerves. “I’m supposed to protect her. I’ve failed her once today; I’ll not do it again.” 

Loïc looks genuinely troubled by the situation. “Elizabet is a smart woman. She would know that if it comes down to it, the cities are more valuable than her life. She’ll understand.”

“No. They aren’t more valuable to me. There is nothing that means more to me than her. I’ll do it alone and you can’t fucking stop me. She’s a Naut and we take care of our own.” 

“Fine. Go but you’re on your own,” Loïc snaps impatiently. 

“Can we not send Siora and Aphra with him? You, me and Petrus will go deal with the coup.”

Loïc gives Kurt a look that indicates he’s said the wrong thing. “I don’t believe you’re the one giving orders here, and I’m not certain I can trust you. You separating the team sounds like a strategy to weaken us so it’ll be easier to pick us off. Besides, Siora will be guarding Constantin.” 

“I’ll go alone!” Vasco calls out, interrupting the argument. “We’re wasting time!” 

Kurt turns to him. “Sailor, it’s a suicide mission. There’ll be a hoard of guards to fight through,” Kurt says. When he simply glares at Kurt, he continues speaking. “Enter through the tavern and go through the brothel. That will be the path of least resistance. Target the ones with rifles first. You’re a damn good shot; that will give you a small chance, at least. And Green Blood is a healer; once she’s freed she can put you back together again.” 

“Assuming I need it.” 

Kurt just shakes his head. “You’re going to need it.” He walks over and hands him two magic potions and a healing potion. “Give those to her so she can keep your stubborn ass alive. We’ll do what we can but you’re on your own. Fight well.” 

***

They know she uses magic because the first thing they do is try to pull off the rings on her fingers as she squirms and fights for her life. “Stop fighting or I’ll cut ‘em off,” one of them growls. 

Better losing fingers than losing her life, she thinks, as she continues to fight, trying to conjure something, _anything_ in her hands. A small ball of shadow grows in her left hand, but a hand grips her middle finger, pulling it back with a force that makes her cry out, dissipating the spell. Moments later, the rings are gone and she is unable to defend herself. 

Her finger is throbbing, but doesn’t seem to be fractured. Possibly sprained, though. Not a serious enough injury to warrant healing when she needs to save her energy. If she focuses enough, perhaps she can manage a spell or two without her rings as a focus. It’ll hurt like hell, but worth it, if it means escaping. 

The gloved hand over her mouth is filthy and smells like oiled leather. When she tries to bite through the glove, the guard; a large man with a maul on his back, laughs. 

“Little rich bitch is cute when she’s mad,” he says to his other two companions. 

Roughly, they toss her on the ground in the Coin Guard jail. 

“Well done,” a man says; she can’t actually see him and she’s scanning the area trying to find something to fight with. There is nothing. “Was there any collateral damage?” 

“The spoiled brat was alone when we grabbed her.” 

“You three are dismissed. Tie the bitch up,” the man says sharply. 

Roughly she’s pulled up and thrown into a chair, but the person actually tying her up seems like he is trying to be gentle. “Sorry,” the man whispers in her ear. 

This man wants to be here no more than she does, she realizes. She chances a glance at him and sees that he’s tall, with a face covered in the acne common among youths. No more than 20, most likely. 

There is another guard standing beside her who appears to be about Kurt’s age and, from the lecherous grin on his face, has no qualms with what is being done here. 

Once tied up, a third guard emerges from the shadows. The mysterious man giving the orders. High ranking from the look of his armour. Looking at her as if she were nothing more than vermin, he backhands her, the sharp metal gauntlet catching on her cheek, leaving what feels like a large gash in its wake. She looks up at him and spits in his face, blood and spittle hitting his cheek. “Fuck you. You have no honour,” she spits out, voice full of as much venom as she can possibly muster. 

“Your brother and cousin will be killed at the hands of your Coin Guard. Commander Torsten wanted a hostage. How much will Prince d’Orsay pay to ensure he doesn’t get his pretty little niece back in pieces?”

She struggles against the tight rope binding her to the chair. “You’re a fool. You all are. My brother will stop this and you’ll all die a traitor’s death!” 

On the surface she is defiant but deep down she is terrified. Kurt wouldn’t betray her. She knows Kurt. But if the other guards learned that Kurt wouldn’t participate in this coup... is he even still alive? Is Vasco alive? Briefly she considers bargaining for Vasco’s life. But just as quickly recognizes that would be a mistake. The people down here in the jail don’t seem aware of her lover. That there is someone out there who loves her enough to want to rescue her. If Vasco managed to escape the execution he could be on his way here.

“Please still be alive, Love,” she whispers once the guards’ attention turns elsewhere. 

It’s difficult to determine how much time has passed here in the jail. It was still early when she left the port - 8 am, perhaps? They’d planned to have an audience with Constantin at 11. Assuming the guards knew of that, the throne room would be the perfect location for an ambush. “What time is it?” She calls out to the three guards. 

She’s rewarded with another backhand and a fresh cut on her cheek next to the one given to her earlier. “Once I’m out of these ropes I’ll kill you myself,” she growls. 

But even so, much as she tries to sound like a lion, she’s just a kitten. Weak. Cute. Near defenceless. 

She doesn’t let herself cry and she doesn’t let herself panic. That is for later. Once she’s survived the ordeal. For now, she needs to remain focused. To look for an opportunity to try to escape. 

Time stands still. To keep calm she begins counting in her head. An hour passes. Her wrists are raw from the ropes and her shoulders are aching. Earlier she checked and determined that her cheekbone is fractured and her finger is sprained. But she’s still alive - for now. 

Would Uncle Adrien pay to keep the spare alive? Or would he let these traitors murder her? It would be months - almost a year before he would respond to any inquiry about a ransom. And what would they do to her in the meantime? If they keep her alive until they’ve heard from her uncle it’s possible they may make her suffer for the duration. 

The thought of being their captive and at their mercy for a year sends a chill down her spine. No. She will be rescued before then if unable to escape on her own. 

There’s a gunshot followed immediately by another. Fighting. A man screams. The hollow sound of someone hitting the floor. “We’re being attacked by Nauts!” A guard shouts from the other side of the closed door. 

“How many of ‘em?” The man guarding her calls back. A lieutenant, she realizes now. 

“Just the one!” 

She breaks out into a grin. Vasco has come for her. The lieutenant grabs her by the shoulders, his face inches from hers. “Why are the Nauts trying to rescue you?” Spittle flies out of his mouth, hitting her face. 

“How should I fucking know?” She shoots back. A lie, because if they know Vasco is her lover that is information that can be used against them. 

A loud groan, followed by the sound of a body hitting the wall makes her nervous because it sounded like it could have come from Vasco. How many people is he fighting against? He’s alone - why is he alone? Where’s Loïc?

The lieutenant notices this and grabs her face, pulling at her wounds, making her cry out. “It’s not the Nauts coming to save you, is it? It’s your lover, who happens to be a Naut.” 

She tries not to react but must fail, because the lieutenant looks almost giddy. “I’ll kill him slow and make you watch for what he’s done to my guards.” 

Elizabet spits in his face. 

The lieutenant turns to the other two guards in the room. “Go out there and skewer the Naut. Try to keep him alive - I want to be the one to finish him off. Make our pretty little prisoner watch.” 

Looking upset, the young man turns to walk out the door. “Surrender to him and he’ll let you live!” She shouts after him, knowing Vasco would be devastated to have to kill someone so young. Someone who was almost certainly forced into a ghost camp, just as Reiner and Wilhem were. 

Lieutenant Werner confirms the boy’s training once the door is closed. “Guards with his training are taught not to surrender. If he dies, it’ll be on his feet, ripping your Naut to shreds.” 

“You are vile and you are a fool,” she shoots back, ignoring the growing fear in her gut. Even if Vasco makes it past the guards out there, how could he possibly win when this lieutenant has her as a hostage? For the last hour she’s tried to conjure an offensive spell without her rings and has had no luck. She cannot escape and help him. 

Which may not be a terrible thing; if he can somehow free her, he’s likely to need healing. She needs to save her energy. 

One thing keeps running through her head. Vasco is alone. There has been no mention of Loïc. Why didn’t Vasco wait for her brother to join in the rescue? 

A key is inserted into the lock on the other side of the door and the lieutenant’s sword is at her throat. “Move and I’ll spill every last drop while your Naut watches.” 

***

Once out of the palace, he forces himself to walk calmly to the Coin Tavern. To act as if he’s just another Naut, looking for a mid-morning lay while on shore leave. There are guards all over the place - looking for prominent citizens, he suspects. 

They pay him no mind and he does the same. He won’t save Elizabet if he cuts down every guard he walks past. He enters the tavern, doing his best to look casual. The man at the stairs stops him. “What is your purpose?” 

“I’m looking for a suck,” he says, concentrating to keep his voice steady; to hide the terrible dread he’s feeling. 

“You’re armed.” 

“Naut policy is to remained armed outside the port,” he lies. Not policy; not technically, but it is a damn good idea. 

“Don’t cause trouble.” 

“I won’t,” he says; lying through his teeth once more. 

He walks down the stairs and stops at the entrance to the brothel. Kurt told him to go through the brothel and that on the other side he would find a door that would lead to the morgue and the jail. 

To survive this, every strike needs to count. He coats his sword with a fast-acting poison that means every cut will ultimately be lethal. 

Once he told Kurt there is nobody he wouldn’t gut to keep her safe. A vow to be made good on today. It is with a sinking feeling that he thinks of that ghost camp and the young recruits and he desperately hopes he doesn’t have to cut any youngsters down on his way to rescue her. That if any stand in his way they’ll be smart enough to lower their weapon and flee. 

Walking through the brothel, he begs off several people offering their services to him. Both staff and clientele look curiously at the armed Naut looking ready to wage a war. Looking around the room, he holds a finger to his lips; a silent plea to keep his current position discreet. 

He opens the door a crack and looks out, seeing two guards wielding rifles. Killing both of them is doable but after that he’s lost the element of surprise. From the looks of it, the door to the jail is locked so he’ll need to either pick the lock, break it down or find a key on one of the bodies. A key would be quickest and the best way to get in before they have a chance to hurt Elizabet. 

He checks his pistol. Still loaded, and he has six shots before he’ll need to re-load. Patting his coat, he confirms where his bullets and gunpowder are. The potions Kurt gave him are safely tucked away in a hidden pocket on his hip. 

One shot. He has one shot at saving his tempest. Taking a deep breath, he aims and fires at the two guards, hitting them both in the head. They drop to the ground. 

In the brothel, there are cries of terror and he can hear the sound of running. Annoying, because it will disguise the steps of the Coin Guards making their way through the brothel towards him. But a complication he had anticipated. 

Three more rush his way, swords drawn. He fires a shot, killing one and as the other two rush through the door, he goes right for their throats, hot blood spraying on him before he kicks them away. 

The sound of heavy boots rushing down the stairs tells him that more are coming from the way he came in. Quickly, he reloads his pistol, allowing him to fire at the first two to enter the room. He rushes at the next three, cutting two of them; a minor injury at first glance but they’ll be dead in two minutes. The third, a man wielding a maul puts up the first proper fight he’s had and he dodges the swings of the weapon, unable to get close. A man who has paid attention to the mistakes of his dead comrades, then. 

A rifle firing gets his attention and the hole in the floor several inches from him reveals he missed death by a hair. Disengaging with the guard he’s currently fighting, he rushes the other guard, running him through after a brief struggle and kicking the rifle away. 

The maul makes a horrible sound when it hits him in the gut, sending him onto his back. He groans at the impact and just barely rolls out of the way as the man swings at his head. Finally he’s able to get a hit in, drawing blood and the man fights on, no doubt knowing what his fate is, but still hoping to end his life before the poison running through his veins ends his. 

“You have no honour,” the guard growls at him as he swings. 

He dodges. “Don’t need it. Never cared to have it. I do what needs to be done to stay standing.” He swings his sword and the guard leaps out of the way. 

A second hit connects, sending him flying into the wall. He struggles to stand, needing to stay alive long enough to free Elizabet. 

Assuming she still lives, a dark voice in the back of his mind whispers and he pushes it away as he forces himself onto his feet. He’s light-headed and weak, but able to dodge his opponent’s increasingly careless blows until the poison kills him. 

He’s not afforded a long break; two guards come out through the door leading to the jail - a man who looks to be in his 30s and a young one of perhaps 20. He raises his sword, noticing the subtle tremor caused by his fatigue and the aching in his gut and parries a strike. With his other hand he reaches into a pocket, pulling out a small blade coated in poison, hiding it in the palm of his hand. He attacks with the sword in his right hand; an obvious maneuver that is easily blocked by his opponent but serves to distract as he buries the blade in the other man’s throat with his left. Blood gushes like a fountain and the man gurgles, grabbing for his coat in an effort to remain standing. Vasco pushes the man away and retrieves his knife from the throat of the dying man.

There was another. A young man. He scans the area and finds the man hiding in a corner, his blade drawn but near useless as the man trembles uncontrollably. He raises his pistol, aiming it at the man. “Drop it.” Immediately it clatters to the ground and the man kicks it over to him. “Does she live?” 

“W - w - hhh - o?” 

“Elizabet De Sardet,” he snarls. The man nods meekly. “Did you touch her?” 

“Sir?”

“Did you touch her?” He repeats loudly and more aggressively. 

“I tied her up,” the man says, curling in on himself. “Lieutenant Werner ordered it. I surrender! Please let me go!” 

“Did you lay a single fucking finger on her otherwise? Did you strike her?” 

There are other means of hurting someone and he’s terrified to think of the potential abuse Elizabet has been subject to. 

“The lieutenant hit her. Not me.” The man is crying now, tears streaming openly down his face. 

“Who else is in there with her?” 

The man hesitates and he takes a few steps closer, gun aimed firmly at his head. “You will tell me now.” 

“Just the lieutenant!” He chokes out. 

“What traps has he set?” The man shakes his head. “Speak!” 

“No traps, sir. Not honourable to set ‘em.” 

“You speak of honour when your superiors ordered the kidnapping of an innocent woman,” he spits out, and the young man recoils and whimpers. “There is no honour in what has been done today. Who took her?” 

“Thhhey’re dead, sir. You killed them.” The man gestures over to the bodies of several guards, including the one with the maul. 

He lowers his pistol. “Good. Justice has been served, then. Leave now and surrender yourself to Captain Kurt. If I see you down here with anyone save for him, I will kill you. Understood?” Nodding, the man flees, rushing up the stairs. 

Breathing heavily, he leans against the wall. No more guards have shown up, meaning the only one still remaining is the lieutenant in the jail with Elizabet. He’ll be at a disadvantage, walking into his space, despite the knowledge gleaned from the young man. 

With shaking hands he takes the healing potion, feeling a burst of energy and warmth that eases the pain in his chest, meaning he can take a full breath again. Grabbing a key from a nearby body, he unlocks the door and opens it. 

“Not one more step, Naut.” A deep voice calls out and he looks around, finding a lieutenant standing behind Elizabet, a sword at her throat. Her face is badly bruised and there are two large gashes on her right cheek. While terrified, she gives him a smile. 

“I’m here for Elizabet. Free her and I won’t kill you. Enough people have died today.” He won’t - with great reluctance, but Loïc is sure to; all of the lieutenants are to be arrested or killed. 

So many have died today. It’s a small comfort that none of the people he’s had to kill were young recruits from the ghost camp; all were seasoned guards who evidently truly believed in the cause. That the one young person he encountered surrendered and cooperated with his questioning. 

But it’s not much of a comfort. Kurt survived a ghost camp. It’s very possible that those he killed were also survivors of a ghost camp a decade or more previous. Soldiers who were tortured by leaders who saw them as weapons and not people. 

“How many of my people did you slice through only to fail now?” The man sneers, pressing his blade against her neck, drawing a thin ribbon of blood. 

As much as he loathes it, he tries diplomacy. “Please let her go. You’ve made your point. She’s no politician.” Mentally he’s trying to determine how quickly he can get a shot off; if he could kill him before the lieutenant could kill her. 

He might, but if his aim is even the slightest bit off, he would hit her. A risk he cannot take. 

“Your weapons. Drop them.” He does, knowing that now the lieutenant will have two prisoners to bargain with but at least he’ll be by her side and able to protect her as best he can. 

“Vasco, no!” Elizabet cries. “He’ll kill you!” The blade against her throat digs just a little deeper and a bead of blood runs down her neck. 

He raises his hands. “Take me prisoner. Do what you will to me, but please sheath your sword. She’s tied up and can’t hurt you.” After another moment the guard does and he breathes a sigh of relief. 

The guard is about Kurt’s size. Tall and muscular and donning heavy armour. Strong, but slow. He makes a decision and lunges for the man’s sword, sliding it Elizabet’s way, hoping she’ll able to cut the ropes binding her to the chair. And then he throws a punch, hitting the man in the jaw before leaping out of the way of his counter attack. 

“Too stupid to carry a pistol, huh?” He taunts the man, rushing in for an attack that the man is able to deflect, sending him to the ground. A metal boot kicks him in the gut; the same spot the maul landed and he cries out, his vision briefly going black. 

“Vasco!” Elizabet shouts, her voice giving him the drive he needs to sit back up, wincing as he does. 

When the lieutenant crouches down to attack him, he goes for his face, hoping to blind the man before killing him. 

A shot fires and the man falls on top of him, still awake and breathing but losing blood quickly from the wound through his upper arm. Vasco squirms free and scrambles backwards to see Elizabet hovering over the man, his gun in her hand. 

“I told you I’d be the one to kill you,” she says, and shoots the man in the head. 

He’s gasping for air, sweat running down his brow, but he forces himself upright and throws his arms around her, ignoring the growing pain in his abdomen. “Tempest! I’m sorry. I should have gone with you this morning. I’m so sorry.” 

She holds him tightly. “Nobody has ever saved my life before. Thank you for coming for me.” 

***

Vasco is covered in blood. Just covered in it. She steps back and looks at him. “None of it is mine,” he says. “Things got a bit messy out there.” Looking down she sees her blouse and trousers are now covered in blood and finds that her relief overshadows any repulsion she would normally feel. 

His hand reaches towards her face but he does not touch it. “They hurt you,” he whispers. 

“It will heal. The cheekbone is fractured and the gashes might scar a bit but I will recover. Were you hurt?” 

“I’m fine,” he says and she frowns, undoing his coat and untucking his shirt, sliding her hands onto his abdomen. He hisses in pain at her touch, shying away from her, something that’s deeply concerning. 

“I saw the hit you took. Let me check you over.” 

The tingling of her diagnostic spell rushes through him and she stops it as quickly as it starts, near dizzy with horror. Her eyes go wide and she grabs his hand, pulling him out of the room. Quickly glancing around, she rushes towards a table and clears it with a swipe of her arm and pushes him onto it, ripping his shirt open as she does. Vasco looks at her, evidently not understanding the cause for alarm. 

“You stubborn man! You’re bleeding internally. How many hits did you take out here? And how the hell were you still standing?” Her hands rest on his belly and he groans as she concentrates on knitting damaged flesh back together under his skin. 

“Few hits from a maul. Had to save you,” he mutters. 

“I won’t be able to heal you completely. I don’t have any magic potions - I’m not even sure how I’ll stabilize you enough so you can be moved to the apartment,” she says, near panicked. 

“Kurt gave me two magic potions, they’re in my pocket, here -“ he moves to grab them for her. 

“Don’t move!” She snaps. And then, feeling terribly guilty for snapping at him in his condition, she tries to explain herself. “I’ll grab them, Love. You can’t move right now because it could make things worse. I’m going to close the worst of it and then I need to figure out how to get you to the apartment because you won’t be able to walk. I can’t risk your injuries re-opening because you’re losing blood quickly.” She reaches into his pocket and pulls out the potions, making a mental note to give Kurt a considerable amount of gold for having the foresight to think of this. 

“Good to have you to patch me up,” he says. 

“This is significantly more than just a simple patch up job. Fuck, Vasco, did you kill all these people?” There must be the bodies of at least 10 people down here. And Vasco came alone. The thought is an unpleasant one and she forces herself not to think of what he had to do to save her life. 

She moves her hand and concentrates on closing the ruptured blood vessels in his abdomen, apologizing when she feels him stiffen. It must be near agonizing but he hasn’t said a word in complaint or cried out. 

“Had to save you,” he says, sounding frighteningly weak. “No matter what. Dizzy...” 

“I’m doing everything I can, Vasco. Just hang in there.” 

He loses consciousness a few minutes later and she curses, still wondering how the hell she’s going to get him out of here. Resting her head on his chest as she casts, she finds his heart is racing and his breaths are shallow and rapid. She doesn’t know what to do; if she were at the apartment there would be her textbooks to consult advising on treatments but here there is nothing. Just the two of them, a dirty table and a single remaining magic potion. 

It doesn’t escape her that if any of the traitors come down here they’ll both be killed because they’re defenceless right now. Her bottom lip trembles and her eyes burn with tears she refuses to let fall. Later. She can feel everything later. Right now she needs to be focused. 

It’s a balancing act; she needs to stabilize him as much as possible, but she can’t push herself so far that she knocks herself out. He needs her to be able to continue treating him once they’ve returned to the apartment. So she casts until she’s tapped out - she doesn’t know how much time has passed but until she gets another magic potion in her, she’s useless. She goes through the drawers of the desk in the jail, looking for something - anything that might help. First she finds her rings and slides them onto her fingers, wincing as she’s reminded of her sprained finger. 

The injury hasn’t kept her from casting her healing spells and doesn’t matter at the moment, she thinks as she goes through the drawers. 

Eventually she comes across a vial of resuscitation powder and grabs it, rushing back to him and blowing it into his nose, while pressing down on his chest to keep him from shooting up and re-opening everything she’s healed. 

It works. His eyes open and she breathes a sigh of relief. “I’m going to help you up and then you’re going to get on my back and I’m going to carry you back to the apartment,” she tells him. 

He sits up with her help and she maneuvers so she can lift him. “I’m bigger than you are,” he says weakly. 

“You are but luckily you’re built like a sailor and not like Kurt so I should be able to get you home. Try to stay awake? This will be much more difficult if you’re dead weight.” He grunts as she gets him onto her back but she’ll be able to do this. For awhile, at least. 

Kurt’s training has benefited her in more ways than are obvious. Without it she wouldn’t be strong enough to carry him like this. Granted, if he were much taller or bulkier this wouldn’t be possible. 

She makes it up the stairs with him and nearly runs into Loïc. His eyes go wide. “Ellie! You’re safe! What happened to your face?” 

Unsurprisingly he ignores the fact that Vasco is half-conscious on her back. 

“I need help. We need to get Vasco back to the apartment now. If we can borrow a stretcher it will go much quicker. Please help me, Loïc!” 

Loïc shakes his head. “We need to get Commander Torsten before he makes it onto a ship. Had your Naut gone to the port this might not have happened.” If he hadn’t run off to save her life, he means, and the implication sends a chill down her spine. Loïc intended to forfeit her life. 

Aphra, Kurt and Petrus are with him. “Just one person. Please!” 

“Wait here and we’ll get you once Torsten has been dealt with.” 

“He doesn’t have that long!” She cries. “He’s bleeding out internally. Please. Please!” A tear rolls down her cheek over the gashes, stinging and making her eyes water further. 

While they were talking Kurt ran off and returns with a stretcher. “Get him on this.” Kurt helps her transfer him from her back onto the stretcher. 

“I’ll go with you, Elizabet,” Aphra says. “Tell me what to do and I’ll do it.” 

Loïc looks unimpressed. “I’m going to need your help. You can’t just leave.” 

“Actually I can,” Aphra snaps. “You are not in charge of me. I trust you can handle _one man_ with Petrus and Kurt. Your sister and Vasco need me more.” 

She doesn’t know Aphra well but knows enough to know she’s not an emotional person and wouldn’t appreciate the hug she desperately wants to give her. Together they lift the stretcher and make their way back to the apartment. 

“What’s the plan?” Aphra asks as they walk. “Looks bad. That’s a lot of pooled blood; he’ll be vulnerable to festering after you operate.” 

She shakes her head. “Not doing it surgically. Magically. Removes that risk entirely. So I’ll need you to give me magic potions when I ask. You know how to brew them, I assume?”

“I do.” 

“Good; I’ll need you to be doing that, as well. I’ve got a station set up in the bedroom so you can work alongside me. Not sure how many I’ll need but I’ll take them until I know he’s not going to...” She can’t finish the thought. 

Aphra looks concerned by the plan. “It’s not good to take too many of those. And your cheek is in rough shape too.” 

“I’ll take as many as I need to today in order to keep him alive. The side effects will be unpleasant for me but not fatal. There’s alcohol in our quarters as well as a paste you can apply. It will help until either Siora or I can heal it,” she says. “The middle finger on my left hand is sprained too.” 

She’s never healed something this bad before. She’s untrained. This is the first time she’ll be healing someone whose life depends on her skills. 

And of course it has to be Vasco. Of all the fucking people for her to have to save it has to be the one person she cannot bear to lose. She forces herself not to think about it. She cannot be preoccupied with those thoughts while treating him. 

Siora’s words run through her head. That the principle of healing a life threatening injury is the same as healing a minor wound. To trust her abilities and remain patient. 

They lie him down on the bed and Aphra runs downstairs to grab potions and ingredients out of her cabinet, handing her two magic potions as she walks past. “Assume you can work while I tend to your face?” She nods, taking a potion and feeling the swell of energy in her body. Placing her hands on him, she gets back to work. 

Aphra tends to her, but she can hardly feel the sting of the alcohol that cleans her wounds or the thick paste being applied through her concentration. “Never had anyone stay this still for this,” Aphra comments. 

“Need to save him. Don’t have the energy to feel anything else.” More likely she’s so focused on saving him that she’s unable to feel anything other than what she needs to in order to complete the task at hand. 

She’s scared. So scared but it’s like an itch in the back of her mind. All she can think about is what needs to be done to save his life. 

Were she fully trained she would be more efficient and would not need nearly as many magic potions. But she’s not and Siora is still at the palace guarding Constantin. 

“Check his pulse and breathing for me?” 

Aphra puts her fingers on his neck. “Consistent with hemorrhagic shock. 134, 32.”

“I’m trying to redirect the pooled blood back into his blood vessels. If I can do it, hopefully he’ll be doing better soon.”

“You can do that?” Aphra sounds shocked. 

“I’m not sure; never done it before but I’m going to try. Can you go and brew some potions? If you come over here every few minutes to check him I would appreciate it.”

Occasionally his eyes open and so she talks to him, explaining what she’s doing, unsure if he can hear her or if he will remember any of this. Aphra is brewing potions across the room, bringing them over to her as soon as they’re bottled, checking him over when she does. 

“How long has it been since we ran into each other?” She asks Aphra. Her hands are shaking and she’s jittery and dizzy from the many magic potions she’s taken so that she can heal him. How many has she taken? She’s lost count, but it doesn’t matter because she’ll keep taking them for as long as it is necessary. 

“Five hours?” The sun is sitting low in the sky. 

“Bring me a healing potion, and a sleeping potion. There’s a vial of resuscitation powder in my pocket; I’ll need it too.” 

Aphra grabs everything and brings it over and reaches into her pocket to grab the vial. “I’m going to wake him up, give him the healing potion and try to talk him into taking the sleeping potion,” she says. “Hold him down.” 

His head shoots up and he gasps for air. “Love, you need to take this. I’ll help you,” she says, uncorking the potion and lifting it to his lips. He takes it without argument, gagging as it goes down. “I know it’s unpleasant. I’m sorry.” 

“I’m still alive,” he says breathlessly, as if shocked by it. 

She gives him a weak smile. “Of course you are. Did you think I was going to let you die? I’ve still got more to do tonight but you’re stable enough now that I can put you to sleep for the rest. It will be... easier for you.” 

“Thought I was just asleep?” 

“You’ve been drifting in and out. What I’m doing is painful and it’s better if you’re asleep for the night. You’ll wake in the morning and I’ll be here.” 

Vasco shakes his head. “Need to tend to you.” 

She takes a deep breath to try to calm herself, not knowing what to do if he cannot be convinced to take a sleeping potion. “No you don’t. You’re very sick and your body needs rest. Please don’t fight me on this. The best thing for me is knowing you’ll get well and to do that you need to sleep.” 

“Who is taking care of you?” 

“I am,” Aphra pipes up. “I’ll stay with your girlfriend. Now take the potion because if you don’t, you’ll make her cry and I’ll have to punch you right in that ugly bruise on your gut and undo at least half the hard work she’s done tonight.” Vasco looks like he wants to argue further and Aphra softens. “I’ll even give her a hug for you. She’s got enough to deal with; please just listen to her.” 

“Help me with it, Tempest,” he says and she brings it to his lips and helps him drink it. 

“Thank you. I love you so much. I’m going to take good care of you through all of this,” she says, leaning down to give him a kiss. 

“Love you too. Get some sleep once you finish.” 

Aphra stands up and lights the lanterns in the room and leaves, returning with several candles. She gives her a grateful look. “I’ve asked Judy to send Siora up once she’s back. She can take over for you and deal with your cheek and finger.” 

It’s been about half a day since she took the blow that fractured it. Last she checked it didn’t need to be set but if the bone moved out of place through all of this and has started to heal, tending to it will be extremely unpleasant for both her and Siora. 

“Constantin knows about our parentage I assume?” She asks Aphra; things are finally calm enough that she’s able to maintain an actual conversation as she works. 

“He does,” Aphra says carefully. Too carefully. 

“And how did he react?” 

“You should talk to your brother in the morning. He can tell you.” 

“I’m not sure I want to,” she says quietly. Her brother was going to sacrifice her, something that stings even if it doesn’t surprise her. 

Several minutes later there’s a knock on the door. “Ellie? We need to speak. Now.” 

Her eyes well up and Aphra sees this. “I can handle him?” She nods and Aphra stands up. 

“She’s healing Vasco and cannot converse with you. If you have a message to give her I can pass it along in the morning,” she hears Aphra say. “Siora! Can you come and heal Elizabet’s face and finger?” Aphra calls down the stairs and she hears the sound of footsteps on the stairs in response. 

“She’s my sister. It’s been hours; she can leave the Naut for fifteen minutes.” 

“In her expert opinion she cannot. You will not bother her. Leave.” 

“Get out of here. She needs peace and quiet to heal. Go!” She hears Siora join the fray. 

They’re protecting her. Worse, they’re protecting her from her brother. Someone she shouldn’t need protecting from. 

“He’s gone, _Carants_ ,” Siora says, dragging a chair over and sitting beside her. “I’m going to heal your injuries” 

“Vasco needs help more than I do,” she retorts. 

Siora gives her a look. “And you are healing him. Your injuries may not be immediately life threatening but they cannot remain unhealed. As someone trained in medicine you know this. I will help once I’ve helped you.” 

Her cheek aches as the bone knits back together and once it is she feels her skin closing. “There will be a bit of scarring but it won’t be too bad. You can cover it with your _renaigse_ powders if you like,” Siora says. 

“I don’t wear makeup frequently. Loïc wears it more than I do.” 

“What?!” Aphra exclaims. 

It’s slightly satisfying, revealing this little secret. “He wears it most days. To hide the blemishes he’s prone to getting. His skin is extremely sensitive. If he just stopped wearing the face powder it would likely clear up and I’ve told him that but...” 

“He’s a vain idiot,” Aphra finishes for her. 

“The scars don’t matter. And I’m sure they won’t matter to Vasco either.” 

While she says it, she doesn’t quite believe it. But high society already sees her as a freak so how could scars possibly change how she’s perceived by the nobility? 

“He was very brave,” Siora says. “Kurt told him how dangerous it was and he went anyway because he loves you.” 

It’s late at night by the time she’s done all she feels comfortable doing. She’s drained, unable to stand without assistance so Aphra and Siora help her into bed beside him. “He won’t be able to go out into the field for at least a month. And I want him to stay here in our quarters for a few days. I’ll help him walk a bit tomorrow but he needs to stay in bed otherwise. Until I’m certain he will be fine without me I’m not leaving this apartment.”

With that proclamation the weight of all that has happened hits her and she bursts into tears. “It’s my fault he got hurt,” she says, through sobs. 

Siora sits at the edge of the bed and wraps her arms around her. Aphra sits as well and, more stiffly and with slight reluctance; as if unsure how to provide physical comfort, does the same. “It was those guards that turned against your people that did this. They took you and he would not have been able to live with himself if he did not save you,” Siora says. “He knew you’d heal whatever got hurt and you have.” 

“You seem into that romantic stuff just as he is. He practically fought off an army on his own to save you. You should probably marry him,” Aphra says. 

“I want to,” she says with a watery laugh that turns into another sob. 

“We’ll stay with you. And make sure you both are taken care of,” Siora says. “Try to get some sleep. I’ll keep watch and take care of him. You’re safe. You both are.” 

“If things deteriorate you’ll wake me?” Siora nods and she closes her eyes and tries to get some sleep as Siora strokes her hair and Aphra holds her hand.


	29. A Diagnosis and a Daydream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loïc struggles with the revelation that Constantin has the malichor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: reference to past physical abuse.

Rude. Ellie is being rude. That’s all he can think of as he makes his way into the throne room for his audience with Constantin. 

A thought that immediately clears from his mind as the light hits the vial of blood. Black blood. “I’m going to die,” Constantin says in shock, falling to the floor. 

His arms are around him immediately, promising to find the cure. “I won’t lose you Darling. I could not survive it,” he whispers through his tears. 

“Everyone out! That’s an order!” He shouts at the guards without raising his head, not wanting these Coin Guards to see the tears on his face. The weakness he’s showing. 

Constantin tells him to keep the truth of his parentage a secret; something he’d planned to do anyway. There’s no way he would risk his position within the d’Orsay family over this unpleasantness. “Do you still love me?” He whispers to Constantin. 

“Always. Why would this change anything?” Constantin asks him. 

“If... we revealed the truth after your father dies, we can marry without scandal.” 

“I cannot think of futures that will not come to pass,” Constantin says bitterly. 

“I’ll find the cure, Darling. I swear it.” 

“Just call the others in. We have other business to attend to,” Constantin says, making it clear that there will be no more discussing that matter for now. Taking a deep breath, he walks to the door and opens it, gesturing for Vasco, Aphra and Siora to enter the room. Kurt is nowhere to be found and Ellie is still missing. Is Kurt with her? That must be all it is. 

But it isn’t. Ellie has been kidnapped. Kurt claims he showed up to warn them, but he finds it hard to believe. His people have turned traitors yet he remains. Would he not be in a better position if he killed them all? This must be a trick. He cannot be alone with Kurt and he needs more than one loyal companion by his side, so he orders Petrus and Aphra to come along as they deal with the traitors. The native he orders to remain with Constantin to care for him and guard him. 

The Naut, who is incapable of following the most basic of directions, runs off to die for Ellie. That will take care of one inconvenience at least. “I’ll have to deal with a lot less snark with the Naut dead,” he says. Looking over at Aphra, he sees she looks incredulous. “What? The man is irritating and destroying my sister’s life.” 

“They love each other; if you had a heart you could see that,” is all Aphra says in response. 

He has a heart. It belongs to his darling. 

They’re walking through the entrance hall, past the portrait of Uncle Adrien when it hits him. He broke one of Uncle’s big rules today. Never show how you’re truly feeling in public. _Never_. For his entire life he’s followed this rule. He’s stoic, calm and his true beliefs remain a mystery. 

But seeing Constantin’s blood, knowing that he’s fated to lose the man he loves just as he lost Mother... He broke. And now those who witnessed his breakdown know the extent of his feelings for Constantin. That there’s nothing in this world he wouldn’t do to protect him. 

Including sacrifice his sister. If New Sérène is lost, Constantin will not remain safe in the cellar. He has to ensure the city remains in the hands of the Congregation. If that means Ellie dies... well that’s a fair trade. 

She always broke rule number two, anyway. Always know your station. While they may not have been born noble, they were made noble. They are wealthy, they are powerful, and they are above cavorting with the common folk. Yet she insists on practicing strange and barbaric hobbies and is being defiled by a Naut. A Naut! It’s disgusting. 

Uncle Adrien told him Ellie would be a threat to his reputation. To figure out how to get her in line and behave herself. On the continent he thought the unfortunate beating had taught her. Ellie was quiet; rarely attending social functions but not causing any trouble. But he was wrong because the moment she met the Naut she started causing more trouble than ever. 

Someone at a party last week asked him if Ellie has told him how far down the Naut’s tattoos go. The humiliation of it! And the way they carry themselves; always holding hands or cuddling. The soft kisses shared in public; the way they say ‘I love you’ whenever they part. It’s almost enough to make him vomit. 

Deep down, he recognizes it’s jealousy. He’ll never have that with Constantin. He will always be relegated to the shadows; a shameful part of his darling’s life. _Maybe_ they’ll be able to marry once Uncle is dead, if he can find a cure for the malichor. But until then, all the love they share must be kept carefully hidden and Constantin must engage in periodic affairs with women in order to throw off suspicion. 

Constantin is always honest with him about the affairs. He describes everything that happened. To be transparent, he says. While they’re together he tries to act with little more than mild jealousy but once he’s alone he weeps in sorrow. 

Ellie always heard his sobs and would comfort him, he thinks and the guilt he feels at sacrificing her life becomes near overwhelming. She’s a good person. But a bad noble. 

This was the only choice he had. Her life for Constantin’s, he says to himself. As guilty as he feels, it is the right decision. It will always be the right decision. 

“Surrender and you’ll be spared!” Kurt calls to the combatants out on the streets of the Silver District.

Not his call. These traitors are attacking the hands that feed them. They all deserve to die. He slices his opponents near in half, grinning with satisfaction as blood splatters onto him. “If these traitors surrender, all it means is that they’ll be drawn and quartered with their lieutenants,” he says to Kurt once they’re the sole people left standing around five bodies. 

“Look at them!” Aphra says angrily. “Take one minute and look at them!” 

“All I see are traitors.” 

“They’re just kids! We’re being forced to kill children! Children who were indoctrinated by their commanding officers! They don’t deserve to be punished for the crimes of their superiors. If they surrender allow them to receive treatment for what they survived.” 

“Aphra is correct, my child. Kurt, Vasco and your sister did tell us all about the ghost camp,” Petrus says, looking at the bodies with regret. “They’re all younger than you are. This is a tragedy.” 

Through this Kurt says nothing to him. He walks over and pokes him hard in the shoulder. “Trying to decide how to best stab me in the back, then?” 

“No, Sir,” Kurt says, not looking up at him. 

“Look at your betters when they are speaking to you, Guard!” Kurt does, and he sees bright eyes full of despair. “Everyone who draws a weapon against me dies. That is an order. You are paid to protect me.” 

“And your sister. And your cousin,” Kurt says. 

“I’m the one in danger now so you protect me.” 

“Your sister has been _kidnapped_!” Aphra says, rushing towards him before deciding better of it. A smart woman. 

“There is a good chance my sister sacrificed her life to save this island. A necessary evil. If she’s lucky the Naut was by her side dying with her so she wasn’t alone.” 

He turns and sees the rest of his companions are frowning at him. “Well, we have more traitors to kill so stop talking and have your weapons at the ready.” 

“We should have sent someone with Vasco,” Kurt says as they make their way into the barracks, having cleared the streets. “Don’t know how he’ll survive an onslaught by that many guards.” 

“He won’t,” he says. “But if he survives long enough to free Ellie, that’s good enough.” The life of a Naut for Ellie’s is a bargain. Despite what he said half an hour ago, he truly hopes she lives through this.

“Green Blood will be devastated. I know you don’t like him, Sir but she’s never been happier than she is now. They’re like puzzle pieces, the two of ‘em. Fit together perfectly.”

He glares at Kurt. “You speak in a manner unbefitting of your station.” 

“Apologies.” 

If he doesn’t find the cure for Constantin, he will lose him. Why should he be the only one to know the pain of losing someone they love? Besides, it will allow her to find and marry someone of her own station. To realize that all she ever felt for the Naut was infatuation. Carnal attraction. 

He’ll find the cure, though. He has to. Constantin’s life depends on it. 

They arrest the first lieutenant. “So, tell me the truth - would you have aimed a rifle at me?” He asks Kurt, trying to sound casual. 

Kurt looks uncomfortable which is enough to make him realize that Kurt might have been capable of it. “Your sister and Vasco helped me investigate the ghost camp. The things being done there - to kids, no less... it was horrible. It allowed me to see the corruption of Torsten and his people. I could never be a part of that.”

Ellie saved them all and she’ll never know it because he sacrificed her. “My child, Vasco is an excellent combatant. I’m sure he will rescue her,” Petrus says, apparently recognizing the pain on his face; the second time he’s broken Uncle’s most important rule today. 

He’s angry with her too. She had to run out and get herself kidnapped, making everything more difficult. And, she didn’t have to witness Constantin’s diagnosis. She does not yet know that he is ill. He’s jealous of her for living with that ignorance. 

It’s with a relief that he hides that he discovers Ellie is still alive and carrying the Naut on her back. He can’t see what could possibly be wrong with him - he’s not bleeding, but she insists he’ll die if she doesn’t get him back to the apartment immediately. 

She always was dramatic. 

Kurt finds her a stretcher and when she lies him down he sees that he’s bruised. He barks a laugh at the theatrics of the situation. But Aphra buys into it and leaves with Ellie. 

“Even if Torsten gets away today, we can track him down. Your sister might need us there to watch her back as they make it back to the apartment. He’s in rough shape.” 

“He’s got a bruise,” Loïc scoffs. “And Ellie and Aphra can fight anything off.” 

Kurt glares at him. “You have no idea how bad it is, do you? From the looks of it he took several bad hits from a heavy weapon. He’s bleeding internally and from the looks of your sister, she was casting her healing spells for a real long time in order to get him in the condition he was in when we saw them. She won’t be able to cast any spells to defend herself. She had Vasco’s sword and pistol but she can’t fight with a sword worth a damn and Vasco keeps his bullets and gunpowder in his coat, which was not with them. So all she has are whatever was loaded in his gun, making her effectively useless in a fight. All three are vulnerable and we should have gone with them.” 

He glares at Kurt in return. “So you’re prioritizing her over capturing the commander responsible for this entire mess?” 

“Yes,” Kurt responds immediately. 

“Well I’m not. We’re going after Torsten,” he says and Kurt follows behind him without another word of argument. 

They manage to catch up to Torsten just outside the port and he raises his sword, ready to fight the man. He won’t kill him; he could hardly spare the traitor the death he deserves, but he will make sure his final days in a jail cell are unpleasant. 

One doesn’t need to have Ellie’s medical knowledge to know how to hurt someone. Fighting alongside Kurt, they manage to disarm Torsten. Without a weapon and bleeding from a wound on his thigh, he doesn’t make it far before falling. 

Pulling out a dagger, he removes Torsten’s gauntlets and stabs him through each hand. “Don’t need those for much longer. You’ll be drawn and quartered within the week,” he says. “That was for Constantin.” 

“Sir!” 

Rolling his eyes, he turns and looks at Kurt, who chides him for his actions. “He is unarmed, Sir. Cuff him and arrest him; there is no honour in attacking an unarmed man.” 

“And there’s honour in trying to murder the governor, then?” 

“I did not say that.” Kurt hands him a pair of cuffs and he roughly cuffs Torsten, dragging him to his feet. 

“If we’re lucky, those wounds will fester and I’ll have to send my sister to tend to you. You kidnapped her, you know. I’ll tell her to make sure it hurts when she cuts your hands off at the wrist,” he whispers harshly in the other man’s ear as he escorts him away. 

Ellie has a vindictive streak; she always has. He thinks briefly back to how she slapped him after taking the Naut to the inquisitor’s house. Of moments during their childhood where she would confront people who were unkind to him or Constantin. She may be shy and she may have anxiety but she does have backbone when someone she cares for is being insulted. 

With that in mind, he suspects she would have no problem making sure Torsten suffered a further indignity before being put to death. She was kidnapped on his orders, after all. 

Once Torsten is successfully handed off, he makes his way to the palace. “I need to check on Constantin. Tonight I will be guarding him personally. Any guard that so much as looks at him funny will be run through. Do I make myself clear, Kurt?” 

“Understood, Sir.” 

“You will also stay and stand guard.” 

“Yes, Sir. May I have leave to go to the barracks and offer my assistance tomorrow?” 

“You may,” Loïc responds. 

“Could we stop in at the apartment to check on Green Blood and the sailor? He was seriously wounded, after all.” 

“Briefly. Ellie needs to be informed of Constantin’s condition. I will have her come with me to the palace tomorrow morning.” 

Perhaps her hobby will do some good, after all. If she can help ease Constantin’s symptoms... 

“I believe that will depend on Vasco’s condition. I’m no doctor but I can’t imagine she’ll be wanting to stray far from him and he is doubtful to be in any condition to go to the palace. It would be wiser to have Lord d’Orsay moved to the apartment,” Kurt says. 

“She will do what I order her to do.” He is the legate. She is Constantin’s assistant. 

“Not in this matter, she won’t, Sir.” 

Grudgingly, he must admit that in this instance, Kurt is correct. 

***

“Darling...” he clings to Constantin as they lie in his bed together. “I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise.” 

“I do not intend to criticize your efforts but you’ll excuse me for not sharing your optimism.” Constantin stares blankly at the ceiling. 

“I won’t lose you. I won’t. You’ll be just fine. Ellie will make sure you’re comfortable and I’ll find the cure. We’re going to grow old together, I swear it,” he says, kissing his cheek repeatedly. Constantin does not react to his kisses; he may as well be kissing a statue. 

“Why me? I don’t deserve this!”

“I don’t know. Try not to despair. Please. You’ll be just fine.” 

“Would you stop saying that?” Constantin snaps. “You can’t know that. There’s nothing! I’m going to die.” 

“No,” he chokes. “Darling please don’t say that. I can’t bear it. I won’t live without you. I won’t.” 

“You’re going to have to soon,” Constantin whispers. 

“No. I’ll turn over every stone on this damned island to find a cure for you. Once your father dies we’ll return to Sérène and you’ll be the prince and I’ll be your husband. We’ll rule together, just as we were always meant to. And it will be wonderful. We’ll be powerful and we will be together always.” A tear escapes his eye and falls onto Constantin. “I love you. I love you so much.” 

“Stop! Get your head out of the clouds, Loïc. I’m dead. You’re lying next to a damned corpse and you need to accept it. I can’t listen to your daydreams. Please.”

“It’s not a daydream,” he stammers. “I’ll find it. Darling, please. I need you to tell me you believe in me. That you know I’ll save you. Please. Please. I’ll find it. I swear.”

“Enough!” Constantin near shouts and Loïc chokes back a sob. Why is his darling raising his voice? 

They’re quiet for a long time, his stomach twisted in knots as he thinks of life without Constantin. He can’t do it. He won’t. 

“Is Elizabet well?” Constantin’s tone is calmer. Gentler. A change of subject; something less painful and easier to navigate than his illness. 

“She wouldn’t speak to me tonight. Was too busy healing her Naut. Kurt says it was internal bleeding from a hit he took in battle. But she had a badly bruised and cut up cheek, which will probably scar. Perhaps this means she’ll start to wear makeup like a proper lady of the court.” 

“I hope he makes it.” Loïc cups Constantin’s face and looks at him in confusion. “My lucky star, you know I don’t share your objections with the man. Who cares if he isn’t noble? She doesn’t want to be noble so let her run off to sea with him. And, you know, he’s rather nice to look at.” 

“He’s covered in tattoos,” he says petulantly. “And piercings. It’s weird.” Then he realizes that his darling has been eyeing the Naut. “You said you weren’t looking at other men!” 

“Think that’s part of the appeal in your sister’s eyes,” Constantin responds. “I stopped by to visit one day when you were out of town and found the two of them sparring in the garden. His shirt was off and he was polite enough to indulge me when I asked what some of them meant. Not all of them, mind you; he has a few on his fingers that he says are too personal to be shared with anyone besides Elizabet. He’s nice, y’know. She deserves something nice in her life. And as I’ve told you over and over: I’m human. If I notice someone is nice to look at, what is the harm in enjoying the view? He’s handsome.” 

While he doesn’t say as much, he finds himself hoping the Naut doesn’t recover so there’s one less person in this world capable of drawing Constantin’s attention away from him. 

“She has us.” 

“I’m already fucking one of my cousins; not bringing the other one into the mix.” Loïc rolls his eyes but is smiling fondly as he does, grateful that the tension between them has evaporated for now. “It’s not too late to repair things with her. Apologize for being so critical of her relationship and at least tolerate it when talking to her. I see how her distance hurts you and it doesn’t have to be that way, my dear.” 

“Your father told me she was a threat to my reputation. She needs to behave in the manner her station demands.” 

Constantin just laughs. “My father is a piece of shit, isn’t he? She won’t be a noble much longer so you shouldn’t worry about her ‘behaving in a manner her station demands’,” he says, imitating his father mockingly. “We’re far away from him. You don’t have to be like him with her. Treat her like you treat me... but without the sex. For me? I hate to see you both so unhappy with one another.” 

He’ll try. He wants things to be as they were when they were children. The simplicity of their relationship. The way he comforted her when she cried and the way she would stand guard when him and Constantin were kissing. She always supported his relationship with Constantin. Even if she didn’t quite understand it. 

And he sent her lover off to die. He wanted the Naut to die in exchange for her. He still wants him to die so Constantin would just stop eyeing the man. If his injuries were that severe, surely he won’t survive, will he? It’s not as if Ellie has any proper training. All she’s doing is delaying the inevitable and making the Naut suffer. Has someone told her that? To let the man die with a shred of dignity instead of trying to fix what she’s not good enough to repair? 

Briefly he considers stepping outside to order Kurt to put the man out of his damned misery. Force Ellie to stop trying to do the impossible. But he cannot leave Constantin unprotected, so the man will continue to suffer under her untrained fingers, he supposes. 

The man always was rude to him. The only good thing he’s done with his life is dying to save Ellie. 

He lies awake, listening to Constantin’s steady breathing, and he resolves to be more patient with her as she mourns the loss of her Naut.


	30. Doctor, not a Partner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elizabet struggles the day after the coup.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: PTSD, panic attack, abusive behaviour, and discussion of injuries.

“Vasco,” she gasps as soon as her eyes open. Rolling over, she sees that he’s still asleep and when she rests her fingers on his pulse, sees that it is normal. She breathes a sigh of relief. 

“It’s been quiet here,” Aphra says, from her spot at her alchemy station across the room. Several potions are on the table, indicating that Aphra was likely working for a lot of the night. “He hasn’t woken up yet and you pushed yourself hard enough that you slept like the dead.” 

Aphra may be right; she doesn’t even remember dreaming through the night. 

“How is he? Did anything happen?” 

Siora shakes her head. “We’ve kept our eyes on you both. No changes since last night, which is a good thing.” 

They’ve been up all night. She hadn’t expected both of them to do so; she had assumed they would take shifts so each could get some rest. “You two should go to bed. Have either of you slept?” 

“We wanted to be with you both,” Siora says, sitting in the chair beside Vasco on the other side of the bed. “To watch over you.” 

“I was a bit concerned about your condition. Taking nine magic potions in a single day was dangerous,” Aphra says. 

“I wasn’t going to let the man I love die,” she says firmly. 

“As I’m aware, and I respect your right to make that decision. All I’m saying is that we needed to keep an eye on you. Your vitals have returned to normal but you need to rest today,” Aphra says, making her way over to the bed and standing beside it. 

“I’ll need to cast that spell to speed the regeneration of blood in his body, at the very least.” 

“You can cast that spell. But I will do anything serious. I think we should hold off on doing more today, though. His body is tired and weak from what you did yesterday,” Siora says. “He needs food and sleep now more than healing.” 

She nods, recognizing that Siora is right but feeling frustrated that she will be powerless to do much for him today. 

“We’ll start him on broth and rice. Easy to digest. If he does well with it, we can probably let him eat whatever he feels like eating. I doubt he’ll have much of an appetite, but hopefully I can talk him into cooperating. He’s stubborn, you know,” she rambles, needing to feel as if she’s doing something for him. 

“I had no idea,” Aphra says sarcastically. 

“If he will not listen to you, I can talk to him. I am less gentle than you are because he is not my _minundhanem_ ,” Siora says, her eyes darting over to where Vasco lays sleeping, as if afraid he’ll have overheard her. 

“You two should go to bed,” she says. “You must both be exhausted, especially after all that you both endured yesterday.” 

“We are fine,” Siora says. “You two need care.” 

“I need you to be in good enough shape to care for Vasco if he needs it,” she says, worried that she won’t be enough to help him if he needs it after doing all she did yesterday. “Please, get some sleep. I’ll be fine with him; I’m sure he will wake up soon.” 

He needs to wake up. She doesn’t know what she’ll do without him. Every beautiful thing in this world. That’s what he promised her and she won’t accept anything less. She can’t lose him before he gives her that. Her breath hitches and she whimpers, fighting off tears. 

“ _Carants_ , he was muttering in his sleep just before you woke. That means the potion has worn off. Do not worry about that. He will wake when his body is ready to.” 

“Go, get some sleep. Please,” she says, almost desperately. 

Aphra and Siora look at each other before finally agreeing. “We can get Petrus so you are not alone,” Aphra says. 

She shakes her head. “I’m with my love; I’m not alone.” 

Everything feels heavy and off-kilter. As if a gust of wind will be enough to topple her. It may not be today but when everything she survived hits her properly it is going to be unpleasant. 

Petrus, as much as she likes him, is not the person she wants around when it hits her. 

“We will close the door. But if you want company, just call downstairs and someone will sit with you,” Siora says. “You need support.” 

She forces herself to smile at Siora. “I’m managing but thank you,” she says. 

The door closes and she lies back down, facing Vasco, desperately wanting to touch him. But she needs to let him wake on his own. 

As she watches him sleep, she forces herself to stop thinking about how desperately she needs her partner. How terrified she is, not just of losing him, but of the Coin Guard. Being grabbed once more. Torture. Every indignity she had to survive followed by hours of fighting tooth and nail to save the person she loves most in this world. 

Vasco needs her to be strong right now. He won’t be in any condition to share the burden of her pain. 

People are hit every day. There are likely several people here in the city who have endured physical abuse. Who have been tied up and held hostage. So many shopkeepers were tormented by the mysterious Egon and his people; surely some of them have had to endure a blade held to their throat. 

She’s still here and so is Vasco, so there’s nothing to cry about, she tells herself. 

Being so focused on mentally lecturing herself means she does not notice Vasco wake up. “Elizabet?” He calls out weakly. 

“Vasco,” she exclaims, taking his hand and kissing it. “I’m so relieved!” 

“So, what was the damage?” Vasco asks her before wincing while he tries to sit up. She places her hand on his chest and helps him lie back down. 

“You’ll need help moving for awhile. I should get you a potion to help with your pain; I’ll be right back.” 

He needs her to be his doctor. Strong. In control. And that is what she will be. 

“Isn’t it supposed to hurt less after you fix it?” He asks with a groan. 

“Yesterday when you were still conscious it wasn’t hurting nearly as much as it should have as a result of the fighting you had done. In order to stay alive your body knew you couldn’t feel the actual pain you were in. And, while I’ve healed what I can for now, there’s still a lot of damage, which means you need to take it easy, Love.” 

She sent Siora and Aphra to bed an hour ago now, she estimates. Once downstairs, she grabs a potion from her cabinet and helps him drink it and a glass of water. “Ruptured spleen and liver. Several broken ribs. By the time I managed to stop the bleeding a rather significant amount ended up pooled in your belly. Luckily I was able to figure out how to get some of it back where it belongs, though you’ll be weak for awhile. Last night I cast a spell that will speed the production of blood in your body and will do so again today, so that will help.”

It’s hard to speak calmly. She’s been so focused since yesterday morning that she hasn’t had time to process it. Her mind is wound tighter than a spool of yarn. Every single thing she survived is pushing on her mind; a torrent attacking her. Soon she will crumple. 

Not now, because he needs calm. To treat him her mind must be focused on the task at hand. She can feel whatever she feels later, once he’s well. Vasco needs a doctor, not a traumatized partner, she reminds herself. 

“Sounds like you had a fun night,” he quips before turning serious. “Thank you. I knew I was in good hands with you. You got lots of practice yesterday.”

“I’d have rather not had that type of practice so please don’t take another beating like that.” 

“I’ll give it a few weeks before doing that again,” Vasco says. While he’s joking, she knows it’s a front. That he’s hiding his own pain for her sake. “Expect I’ll be stuck here awhile?” 

“At least a month. How are you feeling otherwise, Love? Any nausea?”

He shakes his head. “I’m dizzy. And cold. Can I have another blanket?” 

Those symptoms shouldn’t be surprising but still scare her. Opening their closet door, she fetches a quilt, draping it on their bed and sitting down next to him. Vasco gives her a grateful look. “You take such good care of me.” 

“Let me know if you’re still feeling cold in a little bit. I can get a bed warmer for you. For now I’m going to cast a spell to help replenish all the blood you lost. It shouldn’t hurt but let me know if it does.” 

A dizzy spell of her own hits when she rests her hands on him and casts; something she’s careful to hide. It’s one spell and she can manage. “Feel any better?” She asks when she finishes. 

“Don’t feel any different.” Her face falls. “Could be something that takes a bit to work? I’m sure it’s helping,” he says and she feels guilty. It’s not his job to console her in her current state. 

Doctor, not a partner, she reminds herself again. 

“The benefit to this is that at least I won’t have to wander around with your brother,” he says before realizing what he’s said and the bemused look on his face is replaced by guilt. “Sorry. I shouldn’t say that to you; he’s your brother.” 

“I know he intended to sacrifice me,” she says quietly. “I don’t know how to react to that. The cruelty of it. I’m so angry and part of me thinks I don’t ever want to speak to him again. I’d never have done that in his position.” 

“You don’t need to decide now,” he says. “But if you don’t want to talk to him... there are things you need to know...” his eyes blink rapidly and he yawns. “Why am I so tired?” 

“The potion. It’s the same one you took on the voyage and it causes drowsiness,” she says, pulling the covers up further so he’s under them completely. 

“Fuck. Can you keep me awake long enough so I can tend to you?” 

She slides under the covers with him and takes his hand. “Later. When you wake up again I’ll help you eat and we can talk.” 

He closes his eyes and for a long while she watches the steady rise and fall of his chest. Tears prickle in her eyes but she will not let them fall; he needs her too much right now. 

“Be a doctor, not a partner,” she whispers to herself, over and over in order to remain composed. 

Vasco is still asleep when Loïc knocks on the door. “We need to talk, Ellie.” 

She doesn’t answer. She doesn’t want to talk to him. The knocking continues. “Ellie!” 

She still doesn’t answer. The door opens and her hands tremble as he walks in uninvited. “I said we need to talk.” 

Elizabet refuses to look at him and takes Vasco’s hand and squeezes it. 

“Ellie, look at me.” She refuses. “Ellie!” 

Loïc grabs her arm and forcefully pulls her out of bed and she gasps in shock. She falls against the wall and curls in on herself in terror. “Don’t hurt him. Don’t hurt Vasco,” she pleads, caring for his safety more than hers. She’s not armed - stupid, stupid, stupid. 

Is he going to take her? Lock her up in some basement? 

Loïc hovers over her, just like the lieutenant did. “Why must you be so difficult all the time? Do you think I like doing this? I love you, Ellie but you don’t listen!” 

“Don’t hurt him!” She cries, loudly enough to wake Vasco. 

“Stay away from her,” he croaks weakly from the bed. “She doesn’t want to talk to you.” 

Loïc steps away from her and makes his way to the bed. Elizabet screams and the plant on the windowsill - a gift from Siora, grows rapidly and vines fly through the air, wrapping around Loïc’s wrist. He looks at his wrist in shock. 

She did that. She doesn’t know how, but in her panic her body acted out of instinct to protect her love. She stands up tall, looking him straight in the eye. “You need to leave. Now,” she says more calmly than she feels, ignoring the dizziness and the deafening sound of her heart pumping in her ears. 

Loïc glares at her. “Your cousin has the malichor, you selfish little bitch.” He rips the vines off his wrist and storms out of the room, slamming the door behind him. 

Looking over at Vasco, he nods gravely in affirmation. She just barely makes it into the bed before she collapses. “How... I don’t understand... we were all examined before we left...” 

“It’s a mystery, Tempest. I’m sorry. I should have told you yesterday.” 

She takes his hand. “You were so badly wounded. It was best I not learn about it until today... I needed to be focused. I - will need to figure out how to help him. I can ask Kurt to see about transferring him here. Then I can care for you both. I don’t want you to be moving much for several days so we can’t bring you to the palace yet.” 

Realizing Vasco needs her to do more than just sit in bed, she stands up, legs shaking. “I need to get you some broth now that you’re awake.” 

Rationally she’s aware she’s in shock. She feels as if she’s floating above, watching the scene in the room take place. That she’s not actually in her body. 

“Call downstairs and ask someone to bring it up. You’re too unsteady on your feet to take the stairs and after that confrontation it would be better if you weren’t alone,” he says, sounding concerned. 

Stumbling, she makes her way to the door, opens it and calls down to ask that some broth be brought up. Her legs are shaking so badly that she has to hold onto the wall to keep from falling. 

“Tempest?” Vasco looks about ready to stand up and try to help. 

“I’m fine. It’s my anxiety,” she says, hoping that’s enough to wave him off. 

When she makes it back onto the bed Vasco opens his hand and slowly moves it towards her. She takes it. “You’re allowed to cry, you know,” he says. 

Not now. Not while he needs her. “You need me to be strong,” she says, biting her lip to keep from crying. 

“No, I need the woman I love by my side,” Vasco says with the sort of gentleness few others see from him. “Which you are. Don’t feel as if you must hide what you’re feeling. I’m here and I’m not going anywhere.” 

Nodding, she says no more. “Be a doctor, not a partner,” runs through her mind once more. 

It’s another half hour before Kurt comes upstairs. “Are you two well?” He asks as he sets the tray down on the bed. 

She nods, unable to speak because it will crack the facade. “I’m still alive, which is better than the alternative and Elizabet tells me I’m going to recover so I can’t complain,” Vasco says. 

“Come here,” Kurt says, opening his arms. She stands and clings to him, willing herself to remain composed. “You don’t need to lie; you went through an ordeal yesterday.” 

“So did you,” she whispers. “You saved his life. Without those potions...” Everything crumples down and tears fall onto Kurt’s shoulder; the first she’s allowed herself to cry today. She forces herself to calm down. Doctor, not a partner. 

“No, you did. I just made sure you had the tools you needed.” 

Elizabet sits back down on the bed and helps Vasco eat, while Kurt sits in a chair next to the bed. “Can you see about getting Constantin brought here? I’d like to treat him but cannot leave Vasco alone for long and he cannot be moved yet.” 

“I’ll see if I can arrange it, Green Blood. Don’t push yourself too hard. You need to take care of yourself too.” 

Vasco takes a breath before speaking. “Can you ensure there’s someone else in the room if De Sardet is in there? As soon as I’m able I’ll be in there but until then...” 

That Vasco sees this as necessary unsettles her deeply. That she agrees with his request unsettles her even more. 

“We’ll all make sure you have the help you need,” Kurt says. 

Once Vasco finishes eating, she sets the bowl aside and Kurt speaks again. “What else do you need? When you’re... feeling up for it we should talk about what happened. I should have made sure you were protected yesterday. I’m sorry.” 

She reaches over and grabs a sheet of parchment and starts writing a list of ingredients. “He’ll need potions and I’m running low on the following ingredients. If you or someone else could go...” 

“Tempest, just have Kurt buy the potions themselves. You need not trouble yourself with brewing them. There’s more than enough weighing on you.” 

After what happened yesterday, what if someone knows who they’re being bought for and tries to poison them? 

It’s too much. Another weight being loaded on her and she cannot take it. She can’t catch her breath and starts gasping. Vasco takes her hand. “Slow, deep breaths. We’re all safe.” 

It’s Kurt who rushes over and starts rubbing her back. “You’ll check them first. Besides, it’ll be me or one of the others buying them. They won’t be tampered with. Your sailor’s idea is a good one. You two are safe here, I promise.” 

Elizabet breaks down. “I can’t even manage to write a fucking list!” She blurts out between sobs. “What must you think of me?” 

“You are a woman who has been forced to be strong and lock your emotions away after surviving something horrific. Let it out,” Vasco says as Kurt helps her lie down. 

“I’m failing! I need to take care of you! I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” 

“We take care of each other,” Vasco says, cursing as he slides closer to her. He shouldn’t be moving like that, but he is; another shortcoming of hers. “You took care of me yesterday and this morning; now it’s my turn.” His outstretched arm wraps around her waist, his hand slipping under the hem of her blouse to rest on her lower back. 

His hand is cold and clammy. Another reminder of his current condition. 

Visions of basements and blood and beatings run through her mind. Potions that have been tampered with, dead, unseeing eyes and failure. If she fails, she loses the person she loves most. “I can’t,” she cries repeatedly. “I can’t.” 

He needs a doctor, not a partner and this is just another failure of hers. 

“Elizabet. I’m here. What can you feel, right now?” Vasco asks her. 

“Sailor?” 

“It’s a grounding exercise to help with anxiety. Something Elizabet did for me after I was scullied,” Vasco explains. “C’mon, what are you feeling?” 

“Your hand on my back. Kurt is rubbing my shoulder. The stitching of the quilt on my arm. My finger hurts and my cheek aches.”

Siora healed her as best she could but it’s not surprising she’s hasn’t fully recovered yet. 

“And what can you hear?” Vasco asks her. 

“Your voice. Someone wandering around on this floor while wearing their boots.” 

“Good. Did you want to try to sit up? You need to take a few deep breaths,” Vasco says. 

Kurt moves the pillows around and helps her sit up. 

“That reminds me; you need to be doing those breathing exercises again,” she says to Vasco. “It’s especially important now because you’ll be recovering more slowly due to the extent of your injuries.” 

“Must I?” Vasco says ruefully and her breath catches as she imagines one more awful thing that can potentially happen. “Together. Right now, Tempest,” Vasco says quickly. 

She helps him sit up, hands him a pillow and is somewhat surprised when he does them without complaining. Though he does grimace throughout. “I’m sorry. It hurts you,” she says. 

“Would rather it hurt to breathe than...” Vasco trails off, looking almost panicked. Dancing around mines as if afraid she will explode.

Fuck. He shouldn’t have to think about her right now. Not in his condition. She’s failed. She’s failed so thoroughly. 

“Elizabet, will you be able to write the potions down or should we have you dictate the list for Kurt?” 

Right. That’s what’s needed now. A list. Because she cannot handle brewing them herself. “You’re weak,” a voice inside her shouts. 

“I’ll be happy to have you here and present with me instead of worrying about making a bunch of potions,” Vasco says. “I want you here.” 

She feels hollow as she writes the names of the potions she’ll need in addition to the raw ingredients. She’s spent. There’s nothing left to feel. 

Kurt gives her a pat on the back. “I’ll send the bishop out. Once Siora or Aphra wake up I’ll head to the barracks to check on things there and make the arrangements to have Constantin brought here. If you need anything, holler and one of us will come take care of you both.” 

“Was Loïc injured yesterday?” She asks quietly. Despite everything she would heal him if he needed it. 

“No. There are benefits to wearing heavy armour; you could stand to try it out if you’re going to be a human battering ram, Sailor,” Kurt says lightly as he stands up. 

“Can’t be armoured and fast. When I’m not fighting a whole damned squadron on my own I can avoid taking hits.” 

“Damn impressive what you did. You should be proud. Sore, I expect, but proud.” 

Vasco laughs, presumably regretting it almost immediately when he coughs and groans. “It doesn’t feel great, I’ll tell you that much,” he says, voice strained. 

***

“I’ve done all I can for now. I’m still tired from all the casting I did to heal Vasco. I’m sorry I wasn’t there yesterday,” she says, handing Constantin a healing potion. 

Constantin needs her just as Vasco does. But he’s not as ill as Vasco is. Not yet, anyway. 

Her cousin is going to die. The only member of her adoptive family that she still loves. 

She no longer loves Loïc. Her own brother. Thinking it sits heavy in her heart. She’s supposed to love him. He’s family. 

But he was supposed to help save her and sacrificed her instead. A choice that nearly killed her partner. 

“Can hardly be angry with you for getting kidnapped. What a brave thing your handsome lover did for you! How dashing - diving directly into danger, taking hits, all in a desperate attempt to save the one he loves...” Constantin practically sighs. 

“My dear cousin, are you infatuated with my lover?” 

“Don’t tell your brother,” he says with a wink and she smiles and shakes her head. Vasco will get a laugh out of this revelation when he’s feeling better. 

Constantin, perhaps seeing the expression on her face and Siora’s presence at her side, sent Loïc away. 

“We aren’t speaking at the moment,” she says. “I’ll not put you in the middle of it. I promise I’ll do everything I can to help you.” 

“I told him to apologize. He forgets, sometimes, that not everyone cares about life at court. About politics. He volunteered himself to my father to save me but it changed him. I’ve asked him not to hold you to the same standard.” Constantin brightens just slightly and taps her on the arm. “We’re the family screw-ups!” 

This sudden revelation does not comfort her. It just reminds her that the only value she has to Loïc is as a sacrifice. A distraction. Once she was the spare and now she isn’t even that. 

“Not once has he ever put me first,” she says with a sob. “He didn’t need to go personally to save me yesterday but couldn’t he have sent someone else with Vasco? I was a sacrifice he was willing to make and because of that Vasco...” 

“It was an ugly situation,” Constantin says before she can continue a sentence she is unsure she could have finished. “It all turned out in the end and you saved Vasco so no use despairing, right? Loïc will leave on his hunt for a cure as soon as he’s convinced I’m well enough to be left unaccompanied. Given your medical expertise I thought you might be able to help somehow. Stay at my side as my physician instead of my assistant.”

She nods. “You’ll need to stay here until Vasco is well enough to be able to be moved. I’m sure I can convince him to tolerate living in a palace for a few weeks if you’re willing to accommodate us.”

“My dear Elizabet, I think I may just stay here. Fewer people to bother me here. The room may not be quite as opulent but I’ll endure that inconvenience for a few weeks,” Constantin says, as he runs a finger along the top of the headboard, looking for dust. He appears surprised when his finger comes back clean. 

“Loïc will be pleased to have you close by I expect.” 

“I’m sure he will be,” Constantin says, sounding almost... exasperated? There’s something going on there but unless Constantin says more about it, she won’t ask. 

“I - should get back to my love. Should I have someone call for Loïc?” 

“No need,” Constantin says with a wave of his hand. “He’s likely hovering at the base of the stairs ready to mother-hen me the moment you leave. Do take care of your handsome man. I’m sure you can think of something very nice to do for him once he’s well enough,” Constantin says, eyeing her suggestively, leaving no doubt as to what he is referring to. 

She laughs - her first real laugh since everything happened. “I have some ideas but you’ll never know what they are.” She kisses him on the cheek. “I’ll come check on you in the morning. Take it easy.” 

As Constantin predicted, Loïc is waiting at the bottom of the stairs. He rushes towards her when he sees her. “Ellie, I’m so sorry. My behaviour was unacceptable. I’m just so worried about Constantin and I took it out on you. Please forgive me.” 

He’s too close to her and it frightens her. Before she left their quarters Vasco told her where he keeps a small blade; one that can easily be hidden in the palm of a hand. She holds it now and it is a cold comfort. Unwilling to take her eyes off him, she walks backwards down the hallway towards her and Vasco’s room. Loïc follows her. “Please speak to me.” She shakes her head, opens the door, steps in, closes it, and locks it behind her. “Ellie!” Loïc shouts, pounding on the door. 

Vasco looks at her with concern. “Help me up,” he says. 

“Love, no.” 

“I promise I’ll not do anything stupid. I will stand, leaning on you and tell that man to leave you alone. Please, let me do this for you,” he says, trying to bring himself into a sitting position. Rushing over, she helps him, but does not assist him in standing just yet.

“You’ve done so much,” she whispers. 

“And you’re enduring abuse that is frightening you. You told me I can walk a little with your help.” 

Vasco truly means to confront Loïc in his condition. If she doesn’t help, he’ll simply find a riskier way of doing so, which means that, with great reluctance, she helps him stand up and they walk slowly to the door. She unlocks it and opens it to find Loïc standing out in the hallway. 

“Ellie. You’ll allow me to explain?” 

The severe bruising and swelling on his abdomen is clearly visible and Loïc looks down and raises his eyebrow, evidently impressed with Vasco. A rarity. 

Vasco is leaning very heavily on her, but when he speaks he’s no less intimidating than he would normally be. “She wishes to be left alone. You will not speak to her. You will not approach her. You will have nothing at all to do with Elizabet until she initiates communication with you. She’s under _my_ protection and if you continue to harass her, all I need to do is make a report to the admiral and she will make your life a living hell for harassing two of her people. Now you will tell me you understand and then you will turn around and leave her the fuck alone.” 

Bringing the admiral into this appears to have the desired effect; Loïc looks genuinely nervous. “I hope we may speak further once you’ve calmed down, Ellie. Until then, I will leave you alone.” Without another word he turns and walks away. 

“Admiral Cabral told me to get training from a _doneigad_ before officially becoming a Naut. That’s... where I was yesterday. I had hoped to accept my birthright, or make arrangements to. But I’m not a Naut yet. How could she make Loïc’s life difficult?” She helps Vasco into bed before undressing and lying down next to him, reaching a hand over and resting it on his chest, well above his injuries.

“But you are one. Not officially, but you’re Sea Born, as is your brother. And your intention to join our family has been known for some time. We take care of our own. If you were in danger she would ensure you were protected. And if Loïc causes trouble, well... it’s not easy to run a colony without a ship bringing you supplies,” he says. “Or, she could decree that he’s no longer welcome on our ships. Effectively banishing him here. He knows from your uncle not to fuck with us, so a... gentle reminder that you are a Naut will go a long way. He won’t bother you.” 

“He’s my brother. It shouldn’t be this way,” she says, voice hollow and distant. 

“No, Tempest, it shouldn’t be.” Vasco yawns, revealing that he’s tired. Unsurprising given his current state and the fact that he just stood up a few minutes ago. 

“You should rest,” she says. 

“Need to care for you.” 

“I’m managing.” 

As she says it she knows it’s a lie. She’s clinging to the edge of a cliff, just barely holding on. 

Vasco knows too. “Get closer to me,” he says. “Let me hold you.” She looks at him, alarmed but before she can protest, Vasco speaks. “Siora drugged me. Likely won’t be much good at comforting words but if it hurts I won’t give a shit. Lemme care for you.” 

Carefully she moves closer to him, draping a leg over his and holding his hand. Vasco isn’t satisfied. “Closer,” he mumbles. 

“I don’t want to hurt you.” 

“Told you I won’t give a shit. Would rather know you’re getting what you need.” 

For as long as they’ve been together they’ve communicated through touch. Even before that, in fact; the night in the crow’s nest was the first time they expressed their growing feelings physically. While they say ‘I love you’ all the time, it’s when they’re touching that the depth of their love for one another is truly evident. 

Looking over his injuries, she thinks, eventually settling on wrapping her right arm around the back of his neck and resting her head on his chest. His hand rests on her back. “Does it hurt?” 

“Too drugged to give a shit, remember?” Vasco says, slurring his words. “You good?” 

For the first time since yesterday she actually feels... safe. Not because Vasco can protect her now; he very much cannot, but he represents safety in her mind. He’s by her side and will be for as long as they live. 

She can be vulnerable with him. “No,” she says, fighting back tears. 

“Don’t need to be. Let it out.” 

It’s not a panic attack like earlier. It’s a controlled release. Letting just a little bit of the pressure out. She cries for a long while. And then she screams before crying once more. 

He rubs her back and she focuses on the sound of his heart beating. A reminder that he’s still here. “I thought I’d never see you again. And then I thought I wouldn’t be able to save you,” she says, struggling to speak. 

“I feared the same. We’re here and alive.” 

“I was so scared.”

“Me too.” 

She lifts her head and sniffles. “I’ve cried all over you; I’m sorry,” she says, trying to wipe away the evidence of her breakdown from his body. “I’m so embarrassed.” 

“I’ve gotten messier fluids on you.” Vasco’s eyes are half-closed and the words he does manage to speak come out slowly. 

“You would crack a sex joke now,” she says. 

“Mhm.” 

“I’ve let it all out. Get some sleep, Love.” He shouldn’t be tending to her in his current state. She’s cried and freaked out. She’s fine. 

But she isn’t. She feels lost. 

“You too. Love you.” 

“I love you too,” she responds, trying her best to sound... not happy, precisely, but composed. 

Before Vasco gets to sleep, Siora walks into the room with a cup of tea. “Some warm tea to help you sleep,” she says. “And a sleeping potion for Vasco.” 

Admittedly, after all that crying her throat hurts and she’s parched. She takes the cup gratefully, drinking it quickly, enjoying the cinnamon and other spices that make up Vasco’s tea. 

“I’ll help Vasco take the sleeping potion, Elizabet,” Siora says. “You just need to relax.” 

Her head spins and Siora helps her lie down. “Aphra and I will watch over you two,” she says. 

“As she was,” she thinks she can hear Vasco say to Siora and then Siora is moving her once more so she’s draped over him once more. 

She tries to tell Siora she can move herself and to be careful not to hurt him, but her lips are numb and unable to form syllables. She’s tired. So tired; as if every fibre of her body is telling her to sleep. 

Just for five minutes. All she needs is to close her eyes for five minutes. 

***

He regrets it as soon as he says it. ‘Selfish little bitch’. Just hours after promising himself he’d try to be more patient with her, he reveals Constantin’s condition in the cruelest manner possible. 

As he leaves he can see the Naut’s expression. Almost murderous. He has no doubt if the man could stand he’d have attacked him. Ellie just looks crushed by the revelation. 

He’s so worried about Constantin. How could he get the malichor? What could possibly have happened? Finding the cure is now the top priority. But how to find the cure while remaining here to care for him while he’s sick? 

Ellie would take care of him but she’s not his partner. She can’t provide the comfort and support he can. His darling needs him. 

That night he apologizes and she refuses to speak to him. When the door opens it’s the Naut, leaning heavily on Ellie, who speaks. And he threatens him with the admiral! 

“You need to give her time to cool off, Loïc,” Constantin tells him as he angrily paces around the room. “She does not show her anger frequently but it can linger. But she hates being angry at people. It upsets her. Give her the space she wants and she’ll reach out when she’s ready.” 

“And the Naut who threatened me? What do I do with him?” 

Constantin looks at him as if the answer should be obvious. “Nothing? Can you really be surprised he pulled that card out after what you said to her? He willingly went to his death and fought a hoard of Coin Guards to save her; of course he’s going to have something to say in response to your words.” 

He crawls into bed next to Constantin, staring at his face. His handsome face is so pale. Why didn’t he push harder for him to see a doctor? Why didn’t he force Ellie to examine him? “I so regret what I said, Darling. What’s wrong with me?” 

Constantin takes his hand. “You’re strained. Your temper is short. Leave them be and focus on your duties.” 

“What about you?” 

“Elizabet is tending to me. Come back here in the evenings but go to your scheduled meetings during the day.” Constantin brightens, as if remembering something. “Elizabet told me Vasco is a good poker player. And that he’s already starting to get restless and it’s hardly been a day. Once he’s able to sit up for a little while she’s going to suggest he come in here and play a game with me. She says I’ll learn a lot from him if I pay attention.” 

“He’s going to rob you blind,” Loïc says, disgusted by the very idea. “Bet he’ll get happy to have a chance to make some coin off of you.” 

“And I’ll have fun while he does. It’s only money. I’ll see if I can talk Elizabet into playing too. Apparently he’s taught her a thing or two; she claims that she’s ‘no longer a complete embarrassment at cards’.” 

Constantin’s spirits are up just a little compared to where they were yesterday, and it’s a relief to see. “You’ll tell me if you’re in too much pain? She left some potions for you, right?” 

“In the drawer of the bedside table. Now, can you please try to relax? I can practically feel the stress radiating off you and it’s stressing me out.” 

He strips off his shirt, tossing it onto the floor. “Tell me what you need.” 

Constantin scoffs. “I need you to stop fussing over me.”

“You’re so sick. I’ll find the cure. Just as soon as you’re well enough for me to go. I’m going to make sure you get well again.” 

“Do we have to discuss this tonight?” Constantin says, irritation creeping into his voice. “Do you think Elizabet is forcing Vasco into long discussions about how ‘he’ll be well again soon’?” 

“You know the circumstances are different with them,” he says. “He chose to nearly get himself killed and she was able to heal him. Please don’t be angry with me, Darling. I love you. I need you. Forever.” 

“Well, we don’t always get what we want, do we?” Constantin snaps. 

A vision of Constantin’s body, riddled with the black marks of the malichor enters his mind and he bursts into tears. “No. I’m going to make you better,” he says through almost hysterical sobs. “Please don’t leave me.” 

“I’m not doing this on purpose; do you think I want this?” 

“Darling, please! Tell me I’ll find the cure. Promise me you won’t die. Please.” 

“I won’t die,” Constantin whispers in a hollow voice. 

His darling is lying to him and it only makes him cry harder.


	31. Not a Traitor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kurt makes a choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: references to abuse.

Torsten tells him that he is to murder Lord De Sardet and Lord d’Orsay. “The little bitch sister of the legate will be ransomed to her uncle,” Torsten announces. 

“And if he don’t want her?” A man in the crowd calls out. 

“Then we auction her off to the highest bidder.” 

None of these people know her. They don’t know that she’s kind, and generous. That she’s a healer and not a fighter. 

Torsten continues speaking of the plan and his mind is made up. Not a traitor. Never a traitor. That’s not who he is but if his expression wavers, they’ll know he won’t do what he’s been ordered to do. So he chimes in when expected to and provides just enough information about the combat styles of his allies to avoid raising suspicion. 

Today he wears armour Green Blood had commissioned for him and a shirt Lord De Sardet had made for him years ago. Fitting when today he is to do his duty and save them. If he’s honest with himself... it’s more for her than the other two. He respects Green Blood far more than he does the other two. 

Something he’s reminded of many times that day. When Lord De Sardet sends Vasco to his death with a gleeful glint in his eyes. Then once more when he learns that Lord De Sardet would sentence teenagers to be drawn and quartered beside their traitor lieutenants. It sickens him. 

“I’m sworn to protect him, same as Lord d’Orsay and Green Blood,” he reminds himself. “Regardless of my personal opinion.” 

Lord De Sardet doesn’t even pretend to regret the deaths of teenagers. Many of the young men don’t even look old enough to shave. “You know, the young traitors lack the skill and expertise of the older ones. It’s easier to finish them off,” Lord De Sardet says and he swallows down the contents of his stomach to avoid vomiting. 

Petrus murmurs a quiet prayer and rests a hand on his shoulder but no words are exchanged. A good thing, because there’s nothing he wants to say. 

“My child, the deaths of children are never to be celebrated,” Petrus says. “These young people never got a chance to live their lives.” 

“They ceased being children the second they drew a sword on me,” Lord De Sardet says. 

He was five the first time he wielded a proper blade. Six the first time he faced a peer in a spar wielding a sword that wasn’t blunted. 11 the first time he killed. If he’s honest with himself, he stopped being a child the moment they put a sword in his hand. All they saw was another soldier. 

Haunted. Terrified. Desperate. He’s seen that expression on the face of so many. An expression he’s worn himself. It’s the face he sees on Green Blood when she makes it up the stairs carrying her man. Several lines of dried blood run down her her neck from a shallow wound on her throat, and the deep cuts on her cheek. Those will scar, even with magical healing. 

Where do they keep stretchers in these barracks? Never something he needed to pay attention to, he thinks as he searches the training rooms only to come up empty. If he leaves now with her, Torsten gets away on the ship he’s running off to, but Green Blood and her captain will be protected from anyone who dares attack them. 

They’ll send a ship after Torsten; he will be caught and brought back here to face justice, he rationalizes as he finds a stretcher in a closet. Grabbing it, he rushes back to the front entrance. Carefully, he helps get the sailor onto the stretcher and the quiet groan he emits tells him he’s at least partially conscious. Probably a good sign. 

It’s a wonder that him, Lord De Sardet, Petrus and Aphra survived without any serious injuries. Going up against Coin Guards, especially ones who have received the sort of training one does in a Ghost Camp means you cannot make a mistake. Your footwork must be flawless, your eyesight keen and your attacks merciless. 

He tried to get them to surrender. He promised mercy to those who dropped their weapons. But when they didn’t, he had no choice. Lord De Sardet and the others needed protecting. They’re dead. They’re dead because he didn’t do enough to protect them. Because he was too damn naive to see the corruption that has poisoned the guard. 

There’s always been blood on his hands, but now his hands are dripping. 

***

Him and Lord De Sardet make it to the basement of the palace and free Lord d’Orsay, his advisors and Siora. Lord De Sardet hugs his cousin in a manner far too intimate to be platonic. Their old teacher raises an eyebrow and shakes his head at the display. 

“Thank you for rescuing us, Kurt. You’ve saved our lives,” Sir de Courcillon says. “Is Lady De Sardet...” 

“Captain Vasco managed to rescue her. She is back at the apartment tending to him.” 

“Oh, good!” The other man says, looking relieved. He notices that he fails to ask after Captain Vasco’s well being. 

The only value a Coin Guard and a Naut have to the rich are the services they provide. His life doesn’t matter. If Captain Vasco dies today, he won’t be mourned by the people in this room, save for him and Siora. And if he had died taking a blow for Lord De Sardet, the man would walk right over his corpse and carry on as if nothing happened. Years training him doesn’t mean a damn thing. 

“Guard! We will go to Constantin’s quarters,” Lord De Sardet says. 

“Sir, we need to escort Siora back to be apartment so she can assist in treating Captain Vasco. You had also said I could quickly check in on your sister,” he says. 

“The native goes alone or stays here for the night. The governor needs his rest.” 

Siora needs to be at the apartment to help. To give the captain a fighting chance. 

“It will only take a few minutes and there will be a Congregation soldier upstairs guarding him,” he says in a tone more forceful than he would ever use with Lord De Sardet under normal circumstances. 

While the Congregation’s army is small, there is a regiment of soldiers on the island and Lord De Sardet called for them today. Lord d’Orsay will be in trustworthy hands for the half an hour they are gone. 

Lord De Sardet crosses his arms and glares at him. “I’ll tell your commanding officer you’ve disobeyed a direct order. You’ll be sent back to the continent to die on the front lines.” 

No he won’t. Sieglinde would never let that happen. More likely he’d be reassigned. Not something he wants; he likes working alongside Green Blood and training her. But if it saves her captain, it’s a worthy sacrifice. 

“A man’s life is in the balance; I will escort the two of you upstairs and then I will escort Siora to the apartment if you decline to go with me. You have my word that I will be back within the hour,” he says. 

“Tell me about Vasco’s injuries,” Siora interrupts, glaring at Lord De Sardet. 

“He has a bruise,” Lord De Sardet scoffs. “Ellie just wants some attention because apparently getting kidnapped didn’t get her enough of it.” 

“Internal bleeding into his abdomen. Couldn’t tell you from what exactly, but it looks like he took some hard hits from a blunt weapon,” he says, ignoring Lord De Sardet. “I think Green Blood did some healing on him at the barracks, but he was only partially awake when we ran into them so she might need your help. She has an injured cheek that needs healing too.” 

“I’m going now. If you will not come, _renaigse_ , I will go on my own. Even if it is dangerous outside because I care for my friends,” Siora says. 

A thought comes to mind. He pulls Lord De Sardet aside and lowers his voice. “You had wanted to deliver the news of your cousin’s diagnosis and order your sister to come to the palace in the morning. She will be delayed tomorrow if you do not stop by tonight.” 

Lord De Sardet gives him a cold smile. “You are correct and make a good point.” He turns to Constantin. “Will you be fine being guarded by a Congregation soldier until the two of us return?” 

“Let me know how Elizabet and Vasco are doing?” Constantin asks. “I’ll be fine - just go.” 

There’s no chance Green Blood will agree to leave Vasco’s side in the morning. He knows that. But to get Lord De Sardet to agree to anything, it must be shown to be in his own best interest. He hopes what he said just now doesn’t end up giving Lord De Sardet a reason to cause her harm. 

Had he known more and had he not been so damned naive, she wouldn’t have been kidnapped and her sailor wouldn’t be in the condition he’s in. 

“She will be happy to see you tomorrow, Kurt. Don’t blame yourself,” Siora says as they walk to the apartment. Apparently she knows him too well. 

It’s dark and the street lanterns haven’t been lit, meaning they’re walking with only the light of the stars and moon to guide them. A consequence of the attempted coup; with traitorous Coin Guards roaming the Silver District, they could hardly send someone out to light the lanterns. 

“Right,” he says, because he doesn’t know what else to say. Regardless of what Siora tells him, he does blame himself. 

When they get inside he is told that Green Blood is still in her quarters tending to the sailor. It’s been hours now. 

There’s nothing he can do to help her and if he goes up he would just be in the way. But he wants to know how things are looking before he spends the night outside Lord d’Orsay’s room, standing guard. 

There’s an argument between Lord De Sardet and Aphra. Apparently Green Blood won’t see him tonight. Not something he expected, to be honest with you. He assumed she would allow him in while tending to the captain. But, this may not be a bad thing; delaying the revelation about Lord d’Orsay’s diagnosis will mean she can be focused solely on what she’s doing tonight. 

Siora joins the argument and then Aphra comes downstairs. “How is he?” He asks with a measure of desperation. 

“Asleep - we gave him a sleeping potion not too long ago. She thinks she’s stopped the worst of the bleeding and is healing the injuries that would prove to be fatal in the short term,” Aphra says, sounding drained. 

“Will he live?” He’s not sure he wants to hear the answer. 

“I don’t claim to know much about what she’s doing. She’s not saying a lot; she’s so focused. I’ve been brewing potions and checking him over while she works...” Aphra says, looking more emotional than he’s ever seen. 

“And?” 

“It wasn’t good, Kurt.” Aphra walks over to the cabinet and pulls out several bundles of herbs and two bottles filled with some sort of liquid. “She was trying to get all the blood out of his abdominal cavity and back into his blood vessels. He’s stable now but wasn’t for hours. There was an hour or two where I thought his death was almost certain. But... I think she’s saved him.” 

It’s a relief; such a relief and he feels as if he’s let out a huge breath he’d been holding all day. The captain went and fixed his failure. Had he lost his life for it... well, no use thinking about it, because it didn’t happen. He’ll live. 

“How is she holding up?” 

“Focused on the task at hand. But once she’s done, she is going to need support.” 

He knows her well enough to know the inevitable panic attack she has once she’s able to actually think about all that has happened will be bad.

“Don’t leave her alone. She’ll stay up all night with him unless someone is there to keep watch. She needs rest.” 

“I will stay up and watch over them. Siora will too, I expect.” 

With Green Blood and Siora’s healing skills and Aphra’s knowledge of botany, surely that means Vasco is in the best possible hands now. 

“I’ll come by tomorrow. I would just get in the way right now. Take care of her,” he says, feeling guilty that they’re both in this position in the first place. 

It was his job to protect her. Not the sailor’s, despite his vow to do so. And now they’re both in a terrible state after surviving something traumatic. 

***

Once they’ve returned to the apartment, he sneaks off to take a bath. Last night he’d asked if he could bathe quickly before taking up his post outside Lord d’Orsay’s quarters. A request that was denied. 

“It was your people who did this; you will begin making up for it. You don’t need a bath,” Lord De Sardet had told him. 

Orders are orders, so he stood all night in armour stained with the blood of kids tossed into a ghost camp and then tossed off to their deaths by Torsten like they were garbage. 

“You’ve endured worse than a night of watch inside a fancy palace,” he says to himself when the frustration and disgust creep in. 

The bath water quickly turns pink from all the blood and so he closes his eyes as he washes up. No use wasting hot water by emptying the tub and refilling it. 

Were Lord De Sardet not in the apartment he would have. Green Blood would have understood. But not the man in charge of this apartment. 

“You’ve bathed in muddy creeks and half-frozen rivers; a little bit of hot water stained with blood is still a luxury,” he scolds himself. 

Something is happening between Green Blood and her brother. He hears screaming but before he’s able to dress and intervene there is the sound of Lord De Sardet storming downstairs and out the front door. 

He won’t ask today, he decides when he brings a bowl of broth up for Vasco. Green Blood is a mess; she’s just barely holding it together and has a panic attack when he suggests purchasing the potions she’ll need rather than brewing them. His stomach twists with guilt at the sight of her struggling.

Had he known just a little more he could have warned her. Kept her from going out that morning. And when he asked Lord De Sardet to protect her, his request was denied. 

Once Aphra and Siora are up, he leaves for the barracks. The nobility look warily his way when they see him in his doublet, which shames him. “I wasn’t a traitor; I helped stop it,” he wants to cry out. But that’s not enough. Not when people died in the streets, murdered by the very people contracted to protect them. 

It’s chaos at the barracks. “Thanks to you, we have Torsten in Congregation custody. One of his lieutenants survived and is also in custody; the other two were killed,” Sieglinde says when he finally makes it to her office. “We’re working through to determine who was actively involved and who were following bad orders.” 

“The ghost camp survivors should not be held responsible,” he says immediately. “They’re survivors. It’s up to us to take care of them.” 

“Agreed. They will be taken care of.” 

“Did any of the people who planned Lady De Sardet’s kidnapping live?” If there are, he’ll kill them himself for what they did to her. 

Sieglinde shakes her head. “It’s a bloodbath downstairs. Whatever group she had rescuing her was thorough. Her brother sent people I assume?” 

“Not a group. One man.” 

For a moment it looks as if Sieglinde was about to laugh but then she sees his face and her own falls. “Can’t imagine they survived long after that.” 

“Lady De Sardet saved him. She’s a skilled healer and training to be a doctor. Vasco isn’t in good shape right now but he will recover under her care.” 

“He looking for a job?” Sieglinde asks, looking deeply impressed. 

Kurt chuckles. “He’s rather proud of being a Naut so no, he isn’t. I can deal with everything downstairs. I’ll clean everything up and make note of the names and rank of every guard down there.” 

It’s his responsibility to do this. Green Blood was captured by his people and he needs to know the names of those who kept her hostage. The basement stinks of blood and death; a smell he’s painfully familiar with. The first bodies he encounters are nobody he recognizes. All in their late-20s from the looks of it, to his relief. 

Enough teenagers were forced to die as a result of that damned ghost camp and bad orders. 

Gently, he turns the bodies and finds the patch sewn inside their doublets, in the back. A patch with their name. He writes them all down; a starting point in their investigation to find those who still linger in the shadows. 

“How many of these people are survivors of the ghost camp?” He wonders. Or are they all volunteers who believed kidnapping and terrorizing an innocent woman was appropriate? 

On a table he finds Vasco’s coat and his shirt. He grabs the coat; it’s stained with dried blood but Judy might be able to clean it. In the jail, he sees that it was Lieutenant Werner who was keeping her prisoner. A brutal man with a reputation for horrendous cruelty. What she survived was never going to be easy but imprisonment by Werner... she went to hell and back. 

“Shit. I’m so sorry,” he whispers. She shouldn’t have gone through this. She shouldn’t have gone out alone. Why wasn’t he awake before her? He knew she’d want to go back to the port in search of answers. 

Scanning the room, he sees the shredded rope that tied her to a chair remains. Drops of blood stain the floor near the chair. Hers. A bullet hole in the wall tells him Werner was shot in the head at close range. An execution. 

A kinder death than the man deserved for what he did to such a good woman. 

Upstairs he finds Sieglinde and places the parchment with the names of all the guards working with Lieutenant Werner on her desk. “One of them killed Werner with a bullet to the head. Execution-style. The rest died fighting Captain Vasco. None were recently in a camp, from the looks of things but that doesn’t mean they weren’t sent to one during their youth. Didn’t see any documentation on what was to be done with her.” 

“I did,” Sieglinde says. “She was to be ransomed to her uncle. Had he not been willing to bargain, well...” Sieglinde trails off. 

He doesn’t want to think about it. She’s safe and alive. 

But traumatized. The guilt returns. “You helped stop it and saved lives, Kurt. Don’t beat yourself up over it.” 

“But I didn’t protect her. I failed her.” 

“All we can do is move forward and clean up the mess Torsten made. Restore the honour of the guard. I will work with Congregation officials and hand over evidence of Torsten’s treachery. They can deal with him as they see fit.” 

At least Torsten will be dealt with. It’s not much of a comfort but it is something. 

When he returns to the apartment, Lord De Sardet stops him. “So, what is being done to root out the traitors?” 

“Sieglinde is investigating along with a small group of people she’s hand-picked, including myself. I’ve recommended her as Torsten’s replacement.” 

“And she will be sure no guards get the bright idea to try to bite the hands that feed them?” 

“Sieglinde is an honourable woman,” he says, trying to keep his voice steady. Lord De Sardet has the right to ask such questions after what happened, he reminds himself. 

“I’ve got my eye on you,” Lord De Sardet says. “My sister got kidnapped on your watch.” 

“I’m aware, Sir,” he says, unable to meet the other man’s eye out of shame. 

“She’s traumatized. She’s lashing out at me because of what your colleagues did to her. This is on you.” He doesn’t say anything in response. “You need to make things right with her.” 

Lord De Sardet stands up, straightening his shirt, and walks upstairs. With a sigh, he sits down on the sitting room couch. The man is right about one thing: he does need to make things right with her. Because he failed to protect her. 

“Do not despair.” He looks up and sees Siora in the doorway. 

“Shouldn’t you be with them?” 

Siora comes and sits across from him. “Aphra is. They’re both sleeping now and will likely sleep through the night.” 

“I’ll be surprised if Green Blood does,” he says. 

“I drugged her tea,” Siora says with a shrug. “She needs the rest.” 

“She’s going to be angry,” he warns her. He’s a little irritated that it worked; he taught her to sniff every drink she’s given, so she should have caught the subtle smell of vinegar that betrays a sleeping potion, even if it was hidden in Vasco’s fragrant tea. But she also has a lot on her mind at the moment so trusting that a drink prepared by a friend would not be tampered with is understandable. 

“It was Vasco’s idea. He asked me to do it while I was taking care of him and promised to take the blame.” 

“How is he doing?” 

“About as well as can be expected. Petrus went and got those potions you asked him to buy and she checked every single one of them. He’s feeling unwell but the potions he is taking make him sleep, which is not a bad thing. I talked him into taking a sleeping potion once she fell asleep.” 

From what Green Blood has told him, the sailor is a stubborn man who is often reluctant to accept medical treatment so that’s almost a miracle. 

“I convinced him that an entire night without her to numb him would be unpleasant and promised they wouldn’t be left alone,” Siora explains before he can ask. “Aphra is taking the first half of the night and I’ll take the second half.” 

“Give me a shift too. You two need to rest as well,” he says. 

Siora stands up. “Come with me and I’ll show you all you need to know.” 

What is there to know about watching two people who are asleep? He’s very confused but follows without questioning her. 

A lantern hangs over the bed, lighting the room in a way that would be obnoxious if the two inhabitants of the bed were not drugged into sleeping. Green Blood is undressed from the looks of things; her bare shoulders are visible and her head is resting on Vasco’s chest. The captain is lying flat on his back, the sheets and a quilt covering the worst of the bruising. He looks away, wanting to respect their privacy. Aphra stands up from her chair beside Vasco, looking confused by his presence. 

“I’m showing Kurt what he needs to know. He’ll take the next shift and wake me for the last one,” Siora says and she gestures to the now-empty chair. 

He sits. Siora takes his hand and places two fingers on Vasco’s wrist. “I know how to take a pulse,” he responds. “I was taught the basics of field medicine.” While he is no healer, he isn’t incompetent. 

“Four times an hour. Check his breathing too,” Siora says. 

“And if something seems off?” He may have field medicine training but he’s in well over his head if something goes wrong. 

“Get me right away,” Siora responds. “I’ll do what I can until you are able to rouse Elizabet.” 

“Not an easy task, depending on what time it is.” He’s not even sure if someone under the influence of a sleeping potion can be roused. 

“Resuscitation powder will do it. She keeps it in the drawer on her side of the bed.” 

Never would he have thought to use resuscitation powder on someone drugged with a sleeping potion. Evidently nobody who trained him ever did either. Not surprising; resuscitation powder is beyond what most guards can afford. 

“Doubt anything will happen; Elizabet did a damn good job of healing him. You’ll just be watching two sleeping people and keeping her brother out,” Aphra says. 

“Yes, she told me he was stable before going to care for her cousin so it is just a precaution. We knew Elizabet would be upset if nobody was checking on him while she was asleep.” 

It occurs to him that their current positioning is not a good idea. “You should move her; cuddling like that’ll probably be hurting him by morning.” She’ll probably be sore too, but that’s less of a concern. 

“He insisted,” Siora says to him. “As she was falling asleep I moved her back so she was lying as she was when I first came in. I warned him but he said she needs to wake up knowing that he’s still breathing.” 

“Stubborn romantic fool,” he says, realizing he should have known that was why she is lying as she is. “And what would she think of this?” 

She is a doctor, after all. She is unlikely to approve. 

“Her mind needs it to heal. We respect his wishes,” Siora says with a firmness that shuts down any further discussion of the matter. 

They’re all trying to keep a bunch of conflicting balls in the air. Tending to Vasco’s physical wounds and Green Blood’s emotional ones. Trying to balance her need to treat him with her need for support from her partner. She’s likely to be upset in the morning - both because of the sleeping potion and because her man is likely to be feeling worse after cuddling with unconscious dead weight for an entire night. They’re betting on that being less painful than the nightmares and waking up disoriented, convinced she’s lost him. 

He can’t just stand here, not if he’s to be useful and keep watch later. “I’ll go lie down - grab me in a few hours? How long is Green Blood expected to sleep for?” 

“I gave her enough to keep her asleep for at least eight hours. But she hasn’t eaten much since her rescue so it will likely last longer,” Siora says. “Vasco has also taken enough to last for eight hours.” 

When Aphra wakes him several hours later, he settles in the chair next to Vasco’s side of the bed, relieved for a chance to do something to protect them. To be useful in some small way after failing her so spectacularly. 

***

The next day Green Blood asks him to watch Vasco while she tends to Constantin. Vasco is awake - high as a kite off the potion she gave him to relieve the pain he’s in, but awake. “May I ask you something, Sailor?” 

“No, I won’t sleep with you,” Vasco says, chuckling far more than his lame joke deserves. He rolls his eyes at the man. “Go ahead, then.” 

“What happened between Green Blood and her brother yesterday?” 

Vasco scowls and it’s lucky Lord De Sardet isn’t here because he’d likely try to take a swing at the man. “She didn’t want to talk to him. She’s furious with him - with good reason. He forced his way in, which scared her. She hasn’t told me much about their history but I know enough to know he’s done something that means she’s frightened of him. And he’s cruel to her. Woke up to her pleading with him not to hurt me. He was walking my way and vines flew across the room and wrapped around his wrist. So Loïc called her a selfish little bitch and revealed Constantin’s diagnosis.” 

“Shit,” he curses.

Vasco’s face falls. “I wanted to tell her. Tried to. But these potions mess me up. I was so tired and didn’t want to fall asleep right when she needed me most. I thought it could wait. I was wrong.” 

“You did more than enough for her. You were a hero. Don’t guilt yourself.” 

“What did he do to her, Kurt?” Vasco looks up at him, devastation written on his face and it breaks his heart. 

“I can’t tell you. She... asked me not to tell anyone.” Especially not Vasco. 

“But it was bad.” He nods; he can give him that much. 

Vasco sighs and he sees that his eyes are damp. “I don’t know how to protect her from him,” he says quietly. 

“You don’t. Not in your current condition.” He reaches out to take the other man’s hand. “She’s tough. She knows how to take care of herself. The way she is with him nowadays is a result of... his actions.” 

“I know she’s tough. But I also know that after she’s had to be strong, she hurts. I fear she will only sleep if she takes a potion and I don’t think we’ll be able to slip her one again. I could tell she was irritated when she woke up and realized what happened. I took the blame.” 

“She give you a lecture?” 

Vasco shakes his head. “She didn’t say anything. Suspect I escaped her frustration on account of my current state.” 

“Stabbing and shooting your way through a hoard to rescue your kidnapped lover does have a way of getting you out of trouble for awhile.” 

Vasco chuckles and then winces. “Aye, it does.” The mirth on his face disappears, making way for frustration. “It’s difficult for me to think right now. Like I’m sailing through fog. Not able to properly give her the comfort she needs.” 

“You’ve done enough for her,” he repeats. “You’re alive. That’s what she needs most. The rest, let us handle. Constantin has been talking to her - think he’s been able to make her laugh a few times. I’ll talk to her. Focus on getting better.” 

It’s clearly not what the sailor wants to hear; he frowns but seems to lack the energy to argue with him. “Can I get you anything?” 

“I’d love a drink but I know for a fact she would get angry with me if I had one.” 

“And I’m fairly certain she would have words to say to me if I were stupid enough to bring you one. Can I get you anything that won’t get me into trouble?” 

“Maybe another pot of tea? And some of those fancy biscuits Judy buys at the bakery? Elizabet said I can eat whatever I feel up to eating.” 

Kurt looks over at the side table, where a teapot and cup are sitting. The man loves his tea. A good thing - he’s no healer but he assumes staying hydrated is important when recovering from injuries like this. 

“So you’ll eat sweets then?” He asks dryly. Mostly to tease the man; he knows enough to know that when someone is this sick, any food they can eat is a good thing. 

“Never had a sweet tooth before I met her, you know. I’ll enjoy my fancy noble biscuits, thank you very much.” 

“You’ll get your frilly biscuits, _Sir_ ,” he says, grabbing the empty tea pot. 

“Fuck off,” Vasco says affectionately. 

He makes Vasco’s tea and prepares a plate of biscuits and hands the tray to Siora, sending her up to sit with Vasco. He finds Green Blood and brings her downstairs, pouring her a whiskey once they get to the sitting room. “It’s barely lunch time,” she protests. 

“And you could use a damn drink after the last few days. Know enough to know you won’t drink in front of your man while he’s unable to partake so we’ll have one while we chat.” She concedes and takes a sip of her drink and he sips his own. “What’s on your mind?” 

“It’s stupid. Nothing I need to get you in the middle of.” Her way of saying it concerns her brother. 

He lowers his voice. “It was you and Vasco who helped me investigate the ghost camp. It was because of you two I started investigating and saw just how deep the corruption ran. Constantin or Loïc didn’t lift a finger to help. It was _you_. They’re my charges; you’re my sister.” Her eyes well up and tears fall onto her cheeks as she pulls out a handkerchief and dabs at them. “So complain about your brother and know that I’m on your side.” 

She stands up and sits on the couch next to him and throws her arms around him. “Thank you. I know how difficult it must have been for you to make that choice,” she whispers. 

“Not as difficult as you’d expect. I did the right thing, is all. But not soon enough. You and your partner got hurt, and I’m sorry.” 

“No. Please don’t feel guilty. You saved us. Your actions allowed Vasco to rescue me and you gave him the potions I needed to save his life. I - I haven’t had a chance to get into my safe yet but I will once we return upstairs. Call it a raise, in gratitude for your heroism.” 

He smiles into his drink. “I’d say you don’t need to do that but the gold is appreciated.” 

“I’m not naive. I know how this world works. That leaving me to my fate allowed Loïc to rescue the cities on the island. But that he didn’t choose me hurts. Because it’s not the first time this has happened. Not once has he ever chosen me. He takes me for granted, Kurt,” her voice breaks and she wipes another tear from her eye. 

“The bargain he made with his uncle was a cruel one. It saved Constantin but at the expense of all he once was.” 

Green Blood nods. “He’s so much like Adrien now. Sometimes I wonder how much abuse he endured before Adrien successfully moulded him in his image. Constantin has told me Adrien knows how to punish without leaving marks; I’d have never known if Loïc was being hurt. I feel sorry for him. It must have been very difficult. But he’s so mean, Kurt. I could pretend to be what he wanted me to be on the continent but the moment I met Vasco it’s as if I unleashed his wrath. He’s done things to put my love in danger. And he sacrificed me. Vasco saved me and it nearly...” She takes a long drink, finishing her glass and shaking her head, as if to physically force an image from her mind. 

“But it didn’t,” he says firmly. “You saw to that.” 

“Can I tell you a secret? You’ll keep it from my brother and cousin?” He nods. “Once I’ve received some training in healing from a _doneigad_ , I’m going to leave with Vasco. Take my place among the Nauts and be a doctor on his ship. I’ll be a noble no longer.” She smiles. “I’m so excited.” 

“I already knew that - not the training part, but everything else. Had Vasco not been laid off you’d have joined then, wouldn’t you?” She gives him a furtive look and he knows he’s right, even if she won’t say it aloud. 

“I won’t tell Loïc because I’m scared he’ll try to stop me. Maybe I’ll send him a letter before we leave for sea. Or maybe not. Truth be told I don’t know if I ever wish to speak to my brother again. Not after what he did - not just to me but to Vasco. That he didn’t send Vasco off with any sort of help...”

“Whatever you decide about your brother, I’ll respect it. And if you don’t want to talk to him, I’ll make sure he keeps his distance. So will your man.” 

Instead of comforted she looks torn. “That’s what I’m afraid of. That Loïc will try something and Vasco will get killed trying to protect me. Please don’t let Loïc hurt him. Please,” she begs.

He can’t attack one of his charges, meaning he couldn’t defend Vasco should that happen. “Vasco will not be around your brother without supervision. You’ll be there. And... if anything happens and you aren’t for whatever reason, you have my word that I’ll call for you, so you can intervene and stop any conflict that arises.” 

She nods, recognizing the predicament he’s in. 

“Can I ask a question? About healing?” She looks up at him expectantly. “How did you do it? I’ve seen soldiers fall to injuries like that. The odd field medic will make a last ditch attempt to save them by gutting ‘em and trying to tie off the blood vessels. Never seen someone survive long, despite that - festering usually kills them if the blood loss doesn’t. But your man has no fresh scars on him. Means you did it magically.” 

“Similar to what your medics did but with magic,” she says with a shrug. “Closed the ruptured vessels - or the largest of them, anyway. Did that in the basement of the barracks. Once back at the apartment I healed the worst of the damage to his liver and spleen. Then I was able to figure out how to force the pooled blood back into his veins. He’s still in rough shape and there’s more I need to do but...” she takes a deep breath, “he won’t die.” 

Kurt gives her a pat on the back. “You’re just as much a badass as your man is. Never forget that. You may not be good with a sword but you take someone’s life in your hands and pull them back from the brink. Doubt I’d ever be brave enough to do what you do.” 

“It wasn’t bravery, Kurt; it was fear. I couldn’t lose him,” she protests, almost frantically. 

“How does that make it any less impressive? ‘Course you were scared; he’s your man and he looked like shit. Still looks like shit to be honest with you. But instead of running to find someone else to take responsibility, you did. And you did it without hesitation. After spending hours as a hostage, I’ll add. If you keep trying to doubt yourself, I’ll find new reasons to be impressed by your actions, and so will Vasco. Every time he gets smart with you from now on, know that it’s because of you that he’s around to be a pain in the ass.” 

This makes her smile. “But Kurt, his smart mouth is one of my favourite things about him.” 

“Suppose you would have to find it charming in order to settle down with him like you have.”

“I love him, Kurt. More than I ever thought I could love another. I was so scared. I’m still scared,” she says, sniffling and wiping her eyes with her handkerchief. 

“I know you do. That much is obvious. It’s been obvious for a real long time,” he says. 

“Oh?” 

He smirks at her. “Getting handsy with one another during a shooting lesson is a pretty obvious sign of affection. Gotta critique his seduction techniques though. Shooting? Typically it’s billiards when one does that sort of shit.”

“I’ll ask him to make sure the Sea Horse gets a billiards table when we return to sea, then,” she deadpans. “Would hate for you to disapprove of his flirting methods.”


End file.
